First Kiss
by Kimberly-A
Summary: When Peter is in danger, Tinkerbell and Wendy become unlikely allies to try to save the boy they both love. But why exactly does Peter need saving? And from what? COMPLETE
1. Unexpected Allies

Fairies have absolutely no sense of the passage of time. They are simply so small that they can only conceive of the existence of Now, and so they do not understand the concepts of yesterday or last week or last year.

Thus it was that Tinkerbell arrived at the Darlings' nursery window with no idea that the children within might have changed since last she'd seen them. She arrived with no idea that four years had passed and that some of them weren't even entirely children any longer.

The window was closed, but Tinkerbell's urgency was such that it lent her the strength to lift the frame just far enough to allow her to fly through and into the room. She raced desperately from bed to bed, peering into the face of each sleeping child, but none of them was the face she was seeking. All were boys.

Eventually, her frustration led her to mutter angrily -- though fairy muttering sounds remarkably similar to any other type of fairy speech -- and she abruptly yanked the blankets off of each of the beds in turn before circling up to the ceiling in a shower of fairy dust, still ranting in her musical voice.

The evening was cold -- as is so often the case in London, which is only one of the many ways in which that city differs from Neverland -- and so the sudden removal of blankets brought all seven boys leaping out of bed and drowsily rubbing their eyes. Tinkerbell recognized them all: the Wendy's two brothers, Tootles, Nibs, Curly, and the twins. Only Slightly was missing, but she didn't much care about that, because she had more important matters on her tiny mind. Where was Wendy?

She asked the boys, but they glanced at each other in confusion and sleepy disbelief. Could it be that they had lost their ability to understand her? This was most vexing indeed, and so Tink furiously circled the room, yanking a lock of hair here, tweaking an ear there, and even impudently flipping up John's nightshirt, much to his embarrassment.

Holding his nightshirt down to hide that which was most decidedly **meant** to be hidden, John was the first to speak. "What in the world is going on here? Are we to stand idly by while we are attacked in our beds by a ... by a ... by an **insect** of some sort?"

Insect? Insect?! Tink yanked John's hair as hard as she could, causing him to hold his head and shout in unexpected pain.

She then floated right in front of his face and scowled at him, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. She asked him again where Wendy might be, but he still did not understand her, though he was now staring at her with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging slightly open in awe. Upon getting a closer look at her, he had realized this was no insect, though he was most certainly having difficulty believing his own eyes.

Indeed, John and the rest of the boys had all forgotten not only Tink, but fairies in general. They'd been gone from Neverland so long that their adventures there seemed to them to have been only dreams and stories. A real live fairy flying around their nursery was rather difficult to believe.

Tinkerbell gave up on John for the moment, and flew to the youngest boy, Michael, in the hopes that a younger child might have a better chance at understanding her. Michael was still confusedly rubbing his eyes, partly to wake up further, and partly to be sure he was seeing this shining, flying creature accurately.

Tinkerbell impatiently stamped her foot in the air, then asked Michael where Wendy might be found, making sure to add even more gestures than usual. Her miming of long hair and nightgown and kissy faces seemed to make some progress.

Michael asked, "Um ... are you asking about Wendy?"

Tinkerbell flew excited sparkling circles around Michael several times, then stopped in front of his face again and nodded vigorously. When he only stared at her, she stood with her feet wide apart, hands on her hips, Pan-like smirk on her face ... and then mimed being hanged from a noose, her neck bending abruptly and her tongue sticking out of her mouth. When Michael did not seem to understand, she chattered at him frantically, waving her tiny hands about.

Michael looked puzzled by Tink's pantomimes, but pointed at the wall and explained, "Wendy has not slept in the nursery for some years now. She has her own room next door."

Tink nodded, gave Michael a quick grateful kiss on the cheek, and flew from the room, leaving seven sleepy and befuddled boys behind her. It was absolutely crucial that she find Wendy as soon as possible. Wendy saved him the last time and Tink had every hope that Wendy could save him again, even if he didn't know it.

Tink was sure. Wendy was the only one who could save Peter Pan.


	2. In Disguise

**Author's Note:** Second chapter done. Several more to come. :) 

In the room next to the nursery, Wendy Darling slept sweetly and soundly, dreaming of adventures in Neverland. Though she was now 17 years old and quite the young lady, in her heart she was still the same Wendy who had flown through the air by Peter Pan's side. And so, even if her parents did find a husband for her, as they had been discussing so much recently, her love for Peter Pan and Neverland would always be with her. For if you dream something often enough, it will always stay true in your heart.

And so it happened that Wendy was dreaming of Peter Pan, of dancing in his arms surrounded by glimmering fairies, when an agitated Tinkerbell happened to land upon her nose. Wendy was wakened by a strangely familiar jingling sound, only to abruptly go nearly cross-eyed in an attempt to see the shimmering object seated upon her face.

When Tink saw Wendy's eyes open, she rose up to hover near Wendy's face, so that Wendy could see her more easily. Wendy rose up onto her elbows, gazing at the small creature with curiosity. "Well, hello," said Wendy. "Who might you be?" For though she dreamt of Neverland often enough, Wendy too had forgotten much in the years since she'd last seen a fairy.

Tinkerbell jingled and jangled and fluttered around and gestured with great energy. Wendy raised both eyebrows, impressed with the tiny thing's ability to communicate even without language. It seemed that someone was in grave danger, though what Wendy was expected to do about it was rather vague. She shook her head gently. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand. I'm sorry."

Growling with impatience -- though fairy growling sounds remarkably similar to fairy muttering and all other types of fairy speech -- Tinkerbell hovered near Wendy's chest for a moment, gathered her strength, and then threw a ball of fairy dust straight to Wendy's heart, for to understand fairy speech, it is necessary to listen with your heart instead of your head.

The boys had utterly forgotten Neverland in their hearts, and so Tink had not been able to help them, nor had they been able to help her with her wretched problem. But Wendy had kept Neverland and the fairies alive in her heart over the years through her dreams, and so a smattering of fairy dust was all she needed. She found herself suddenly not only remembering Tinkerbell, but also able to interpret the fairy's worried exclamations.

"Peter?" For, indeed, Wendy had never forgotten Peter and all he had once meant to her. "Peter is in trouble? Dying?" Wendy clasped her hands over her heart in dismay. "But ... why have you come to me? What can I do?"

Tink rebuked Wendy and pulled at her hair insistently, attempting to yank her right out of her bed. Her heart pounding with anxiety for poor Peter, Wendy complied, stepping onto the chill floor in her bare feet, her white lawn nightdress gleaming in the moonlight that shone in through her window.

"I don't know how I can help," Wendy stated nervously, "but I'm willing to try!" She quickly ran to her closet to pull out more appropriate clothing for such a journey, but Tink stopped her with a vigorous burst of jingling instructions.

Wendy turned to look at the fairy. "Dress as a **boy**? Why should I do that? Peter knows me and will welcome me, I'm sure. I've grown up some, but I do not think he will mind so very much that I need to **disguise** myself."

But Tink was again quite determined, insisting that Wendy absolutely **must** come in disguise as a Lost Boy, though she refused to explain why.

Though normally a rather wayward, independent girl, not kindly disposed to following orders, Wendy found herself swayed by the panic evident in Tinkerbell's every move and expression. Something truly terrible was happening, and there was no time to waste on arguments.

Wendy padded quietly to the nursery, where some of the boys were sitting up in their beds, others lying down but not yet asleep after the fairy's disturbing arrival and sudden disappearance. They had been whispering their confusion to each other, but all seven of them looked up in surprise when the fairy reappeared with Wendy in tow. Their elder sister's eyes were wild, her hair streaming down her back and over her shoulders in disarray, and the boys, to be honest, all felt a bit frightened by this even more confusing turn of events.

"Boys," whispered Wendy quickly, "I must borrow some clothing, as I must disguise myself."

Her brothers lept to their feet and began to ask questions all at once, but Wendy shushed them nervously. It would not do for their parents to discover what was afoot. They would certainly attempt to keep Wendy from leaving, and then Peter might die!

"Are you having an adventure?" asked Tootles softly but with a grin, his eyes gleaming with vicarious excitement.

Wendy nodded, beginning to look through the boys' closet in search of clothing that might fit her. "I need to disguise myself as a boy, so please help me find clothes that will fit!"

John and Nibs glanced at each other, then back at Wendy. John cleared his throat quietly. "Ahem. Wendy? Do you truly think that you will convince **anyone** that you are really a boy?" He glanced discreetly at Wendy's chest, then quickly away, blushing slightly in the moonlight.

Wendy glanced down at herself for a moment, her brows drawing together in thought. "I shall have to ... um ... let me worry about that. Just help me find a shirt that will fit but loosely." And so the boys crowded around her, pulling out various items of clothing and holding them up to Wendy for judgment. These trouser legs were too short, those shirt sleeves were too long, but eventually they had found a reasonably acceptable outfit. Wendy beamed her thanks at them, then ran to her own room again on silent bare feet.

Gazing into her full-length looking glass, Wendy eyed her chest with some concern. Tinkerbell insisted that Wendy must arrive in Neverland disguised as a boy, and so it would have to be. Wendy fetched a bandage from her work basket, saved from when she had treated one of the twins for a twisted ankle some weeks ago, and used it to bind her chest tightly. It wasn't comfortable, and it made breathing a bit more difficult, but it would have to do.

She hurriedly clothed herself in the simple black trousers and green button-front shirt. They'd tried to give her a white shirt, but she'd been concerned the bandage might be visible through the fabric. The black trousers fit remarkably well, except that they required a cord to cinch them in at her narrow waist. Wendy stopped to worry about footwear for a moment, but then remembered that none of them had worn shoes in Neverland, and so she would simply go without.

Then Wendy stopped, looking back into the mirror. She reached up a hand to touch her long auburn hair, falling about her shoulders in thick waves. She thought a moment, then ran back to the nursery. Pulling a long discarded fur hat from the toybox, something she'd seen the twins wear often in Neverland, she ran back to her room, leaving the boys to glance at each other and then back at the door.

Wendy braided her hair tightly and then fitted it under the fur cap. It looked rather silly, and the cap was rather snug, but it would hide her hair and part of her face, and Tinkerbell seemed to think that was important.

Wendy finally walked back to the nursery, her transformation complete. She stood in her black trousers, green shirt, and fur hat, and the boys gaped in amazement. John commented, "You're tall for a boy, I suppose, but not too tall."

Wendy responded, "I'll consider myself lucky that I have not yet grown taller, I suppose."

Slightly nodded, "And your voice sounds like a woman, but it could also be a boy's voice."

Wendy nodded with satisfaction, then looked to Tinkerbell, who had been hovering over John's shoulder, much to that boy's bewildered distraction. "Am I ready, do you think?" Tinkerbell flew toward her, jingling her approval and insistence that they leave immediately.

"Will you come back to us?" asked one of the twins.

"Will you tell us stories about your adventure?" asked the other twin.

Wendy smiled gently and told them that yes, she would return, and she would bring many stories to tell. She was trying to be very brave in front of the boys, lest they worry for her safety. She had little idea of the perils she would face, but she was determined to face danger without flinching.

For it is true that if you dream something often enough, it stays true in your heart. And Wendy, though living a quiet young lady's life these four years and more, had dreamt long and often of adventure. And so in her heart she was ready.

**Author's Note:** Another chapter tomorrow, including Wendy's first sight of Peter after more than four years of separation, as well as some beginnings of explanation about what has Tink so worried. 


	3. Decisions

When they arrived at Neverland -- after a journey which was considerably less enjoyable than Wendy's first voyage along that path had been -- Tink led Wendy to a giant tree in the fairies' forest. At first glance, it appeared to be a normal tree, though exceptionally tall and broad, but upon more careful perusal of the tree Wendy noticed a strange indentation upon one of the largest roots. Tinkerbell urged her to lean her hand upon the indentation, and Wendy did so, startled when it triggered a door to swing open in the tree's trunk.

Unlike Peter's previous tree home -- for indeed this was a different tree -- this was not entered by way of chutes, but rather by a more pragmatic stairway.

"Pragmatic?" thought Wendy to herself. "Peter?" And she was right to wonder, as she was soon to find out.

Peter had found it necessary to make himself a new home elsewhere, since the pirates had discovered the location of his previously secret hide-out. This new home was quite different in many respects, as Wendy discovered when Tinkerbell guided her inside. There were fewer sleeping places, Wendy was somewhat distressed to notice. Since there were also no Lost Boys in evidence, the lack of beds made sense, and yet it left Wendy wondering where on earth she herself would sleep, now that her own little house must surely be long gone.

There were also fewer playthings scattered about the spacious room. Wendy did, however, notice several swords, daggers, knives, bows, quivers, arrows, furs of various types, several unfamiliar-looking feathers, and a few small but cunning objects carved from wood -- including a pirate ship and what appeared to be a tepee, complete with tiny Indians at the open flap. Wendy picked up the wooden tepee to examine it more closely, smiling with appreciation as she ran her fingers over the curves and edges.

A sudden sound startled her, making her jump slightly and look toward the back of the room, dropping the tepee with a clatter. Wendy glanced at Tink to guage her reaction, and found herself reassured by the fairy's bell-like encouraging words. Tink grabbed hold of Wendy's shirtfront and began pulling her toward the far side of the room, toward what appeared to be a bed. As Wendy stepped closer, she was speechless with her first sight of Peter Pan in more than four years.

His head rested upon his arms such that she could not see his face, but she sensed that he was asleep. The Peter she knew would never have remained still so long were he awake, especially after she had made so much noise. But Peter was indeed asleep, though restless, murmuring words Wendy could not catch, his head occasionally rocking back and forth upon his arm.

"No," he whimpered quietly. "No. Don't go."

For while Wendy had been dreaming her beautiful dreams of Peter and Neverland, Peter too had been dreaming, but his dreams had been decidedly unlike her own. He dreamt of all the hurtful things ever said to him, he dreamt of them as if they were real. He dreamt of Wendy leaving him, of Wendy in the arms of someone called "husband," of himself all alone and abandoned. He dreamt of growing old, of finding himself unable to fly, of finding himself a grown man in an office.

And, yes, if you dream something often enough, it will become and stay true in your heart. And Peter's dreams had turned dark and lonely long ago.

"You are deficient," said his dream Wendy. "What could you possibly have to offer me? I'm going home."

Even Peter's more pleasant dreams disturbed him, for they lately hinted at pleasures that he did not understand. He sometimes dreamt of Wendy's thimble, and of her body close to his upon the deck of the pirate ship, and his heart would race, and he would wake in a sweat, always terribly confused. This other dream Wendy always smiled gently and took his hand, pulling him close to her so that he could feel her heart beating against his as their lips met. The dreams were pleasant, certainly, but his body's response to them frightened him. He almost preferred the nightmares.

The real Wendy watching him, of course, knew none of this. She saw only the tousled blond hair of her long-ago young love. She was uncertain whether she should wake him, though his sleep seemed troubled. The bed he slept on was carved out of the side of the tree, so that even in sleep he was relatively protected on all sides from any intruders. Perhaps that was why he allowed himself to sleep more soundly and had not been wakened by her entry into the room.

Placing her hand upon the outer edge of the bed-hollow so that she could lean closer to Peter, Wendy pulled back slightly when she noticed that though the entry hole was about as big as she herself, the inner area of the bed upon which he slept was simply gigantic. It dwarfed Peter's form as he lay nestled within the furs and blankets there, but when Wendy again leaned closer toward the sleeping Peter, she noticed something very odd.

Though Peter looked small in the center of the huge bed, he was, in fact, larger ... larger than when Wendy had last seen him, anyway. Wendy bit her lip in confusion and worry. What might have caused Peter to grow, even here in Neverland? She looked to Tinkerbell again for information, but Tink only made a sad, worried little sound and slowly nodded her head.

Was this why Tink had brought her back to Neverland? Because Peter was growing? But what was Wendy expected to do about that? She knew nothing about such things.

When Peter again whimpered softly in his sleep, turned her attention back to him, feeling a strong desire to reach out to smooth his hair and comfort him. Wendy then imagined that he had made this new bed so large because he had felt uncertain if or when he might **ever** stop growing. _Poor Peter,_ she thought to herself, _to grow up, just as he always feared!_

And she then, watching Peter sleep, decided firmly in her own mind that she would do whatever she could to help him, that she would stay until she had found some answer to this puzzle. And it is a good thing for our story that she did make her decision right then, for things might have gone very differently if she had waited only a few moments more ... for at that moment, Peter Pan awoke.

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**Author's Note:** In the next chapter -- most likely posted later today -- Peter meets Wendy-in-disguise and doesn't behave quite as she expects him to. 


	4. Lost Boy

In one lithe move, Peter had lept into a crouch with his knife drawn, demanding, "Who are you?" Wendy took a step backward in alarm.

Tinkerbell flew forward to speak into Peter's ear, and his expression slowly relaxed. "A new Lost Boy, is it?" He smiled warmly at Wendy, "Well, that hasn't happened in a long time. What's your name?"

Wendy glanced uncertainly at Tinkerbell, who made frantic gestures behind Peter's head where he could not see her. "Um," began Wendy, "um..." She rapidly considered her options, considered pretending to be mute, or speak another language, or anything to avoid lying to Peter, but then she would never be able to ask the questions necessary to figure out what was going on here. "I don't remember?" She'd meant it to come out as a statement, but her uncertainty showed in her tone. She slouched purposely to try to better hide her face.

Peter nodded, "That's quite common. I am Peter. Peter Pan." And with that statement, he lept from the bed into his favorite stance, feet wide, hands on his hips, arrogant smirk on his lips. But it only lasted a few moments before he was looking around the room with a bit of a frown.

Wendy hated lying to Peter, but Tinkerbell seemed to think there was no other choice. Why was she in disguise? Would Peter recognize her, and if so what would he do? Wendy anxiously wrung her hands before her. Peter had barely looked at her so far, but eventually he was sure to recognize her face, wasn't he? Or had he forgotten her entirely?

Peter continued to scowl in his search for something he had not yet mentioned, and so Wendy took this moment to watch him from beneath lowered eyelashes. Indeed, he had grown up, and looked to be close to her own age, perhaps a bit older, perhaps as much as 18. He was still slender, but he had grown taller and his shoulders had broadened. He still wore trousers made of leaves, reaching only below his knees, but they were now rather more flattering on his newly more muscular form, and his tanned chest was bare to her gaze. Wendy blushed to be with a man so little clothed, even if it **was** Peter. For indeed, he did now look like a man rather than the boy he had been.

"There's nothing for it," Peter's voice intruded upon her thoughts. "There is nowhere else for you to sleep, and so we must share the bed."

Wendy's eyes grew wide and she choked. Tinkerbell flew behind her and pounded ineffectually on Wendy's back with her tiny body. Wendy smiled weakly at the fairy's antics and assured her that death by choking was not imminent. "Share ... the bed?" she stammered, suddenly even more nervous than she had been before.

"Yup." Peter blithely turned to pick up his knife from where he had set it upon the furs in the bed-hollow. "And we need to think of a name for you. What would you like to be called?" he asked, still barely glancing in her direction.

"I ... I don't know," Wendy said softly, still eyeing the bed with some trepidation.

Peter shrugged, "We shall simply wait until something comes to us, then," and fell into a chair made of branches, with a sort of fur blanket spread over to cushion the sharp edges. Wendy glanced around the room and realized that it housed no throne as Peter had formerly sat upon. With no Lost Boys to gather 'round it, a throne would probably have been less fun, she supposed. Instead, the room held a few chairs in various shapes and sizes, all similar to the one Peter had fallen into. Wendy noticed that Peter did not sit with his leg thrown over the chair arm anymore, either. Instead, he sat with both feet on the floor, his legs spread slightly.

Picking up a piece of wood from a nearby surface, Peter began to whittle at it, fairly ignoring Wendy's presence. He not only looked older, but he seemed to have lost much of his former joyful energy and arrogance. He seemed subdued, one might even say sullen.

Wendy shifted from one foot to another, watching Peter frown at his whittling. She looked around the room and then back at him. "So," she ventured hesitantly, "I am to live here?"

Nodding, Peter offered, "I'll show you around," and rose to his feet. The main room had little mystery to offer, as she had already examined it quite thoroughly, but Peter also led her to one rather hidden fold in the wall, and showed her the rungs that led upward. Peter climbed up first, with Wendy following.

"You must be careful when you leave the tree," Peter cautioned as they climbed. "There are pirates." Wendy smiled at this, relieved that something was still the same. "And the Indian warriors are fierce. They would as soon slit your throat as look at you." Wendy's smile disappeared as she remembered with some confusion the warm welcome and kindness of the Indian tribe on her previous visit. Why did Peter now fear them?

"Princess Tigerlily is especially dangerous," Peter continued, to Wendy's even further dismay. Princess Tigerlily? But she had been a great friend to them. "Girls cannot be trusted," Peter explained grimly.

Wendy's eyes widened. Girls cannot be trusted? When had Peter decided this?

All of a sudden, the darkness cleared above her as Peter stepped away, and Wendy's thoughts were interrupted. She had reached the top of the rung ladder, where she found herself on a small platform high in the branches of the tree. She could see so very far, even all the way to the Mermaid Lagoon, which gleamed in the early morning twilight. With the green leaves all 'round her, Wendy felt safe, even as she also felt on top of the world. She smiled with pleasure. What a perfect seat!

Of a sudden, Wendy found herself yawning, much to her embarrassment. Tinkerbell had, after all, pulled her from the depths of her slumber. _And,_ thought Wendy, _as Peter has only just woken, perhaps I can sleep now without sharing the bed._ Even thinking the thought made her blush again.

"I find myself quite tired," Wendy said. "Might I sleep for a while before exploring further?"

Peter nodded. "I too could use some more rest. Let us sleep until the morning sun is brighter."

Wendy's eyes widened, but Peter had already begun descending the ladder. Wendy looked at Tinkerbell with uncertainty plain on her face, but Tinkerbell quite vocally and vehemently urged her to behave as if she were a Lost Boy. Hadn't she seen how Peter had changed, how sad he seemed, and how large? Hadn't Wendy heard Peter's distrust in girls? If he knew who Wendy was, he would not allow her to help. He would send her home immediately. Wendy didn't want that, did she?

At Tinkerbell's urging, Wendy reluctantly agreed and descended the ladder into the tree room. Peter had already climbed into the bed and now lay on top of the furs to one side. Wendy gulped. "Do you sleep with that knife?" she asked nervously. If her hat fell off in her sleep and he knew who she was, would he kill her? Had he changed so much? He'd been behaving so strangely she really was not sure.

Peter pulled his knife again from its sheath and nodded. "Have to, in case any pirates or Indians find their way into the tree. Otherwise, I'd be dead by now. Don't worry."

Wendy glanced again at Tinkerbell for courage, and then pulled herself up into the bed. She truly was very tired. The voyage with Tinkerbell had been more difficult without Peter there to help her, and all of the excitement of the night had been a bit much. Wendy curled up as far from Peter as possible, with her body pressed against the side of the tree. Glancing nervously at Peter's relaxed form so near to her, and again at his knife sheath, she prayed quickly that her hat would not come off while she slept, and only moments later, she was asleep.


	5. The Ache

Wendy woke slowly from the most beautiful dream. Peter had come back to her! He had pulled her into his arms to kiss her lips so softly, and then with increasing passion. She tried to stay in the dream, hating to wake when the taste of his lips still lingered upon her own. It had all felt so very **real**.

But as Wendy's eyes fluttered and opened, she realized that it had not entirely been a dream. While she slept, Wendy had lost her hat and her braid had come free, and somewhere along the way both she and Peter had moved toward the center of the bed. He seemed still deeply asleep, despite the hold he had around her waist and the hand he had curved to cup her cheek.

Wendy's breath came faster, wondering what was going on. Had he actually been kissing her while she was asleep? Was he dreaming? Of whom? Or was he awake? Had he recognized her, and that was why he was holding her so close?

And then her thoughts fled in a rush as Peter's lips pressed to hers once more. Wendy melted against him, unable to build any defense against such sweetness. She had dreamt of his kiss so often, she could not turn away from it now. He deepened the kiss as his arms pulled her even closer, and Wendy gasped her surprise and excitement into his mouth. Her body felt tight and hot and her heart beat ever faster and she wanted nothing more than to get closer and closer to him. The kiss seemed to last forever, growing more and more passionate, and it was like heaven ... until a horrid thought slowly entered Wendy's mind.

_He is truly asleep,_ she reminded herself. _It is not me he is kissing. He doesn't even know I am here. His kiss is not for me ... his kiss is for his dream. He doesn't even know who I am._

Tears springing to her eyes, Wendy pulled her lips from Peter's and began attempting to slowly disengage herself from his arms. He resisted, briefly pulling her even closer, but then allowed her to gently roll him away from her body until he lay separate from her, a small smile playing on his slightly swollen lips.

Slowly, so very slowly, Wendy grabbed her fur cap and climbed carefully from the bed-hollow. She ran on quiet bare feet to the rung ladder and climbed quickly up to the look-out platform. Sitting to lean against the trunk of the tree, she pulled her knees to her chest and wept silently into her hands. It was too, too cruel, to finally have what she had so dearly wanted, but to have it for the wrong reasons. Sitting there in the morning light with the leaves dancing around her, Wendy admitted to herself the truth: that she had been in love with Peter since first she saw him, and time apart had done nothing to lessen her feelings.

Drying her tears on the sleeve of her shirt, Wendy gazed into the distance and wondered what she should do. She simply could not sleep in the same bed with him again, now that she knew how quickly she succumbed to him even when he was asleep. But if she refused to sleep in the bed, he would know that something was wrong. He might look at her more closely and realize who she was.

Could she continue to be with him, for however long was necessary, and always hide her feelings? Could she stand to see -- oh please no -- **hatred** in his eyes when he eventually learned who she was?

When Tinkerbell flew up to perch on Wendy's knee, the tears began again. Just the sight of a friendly face was enough to break Wendy's control. Tink grabbed hold of one of the tails of Wendy's shirt and lifted it to dry her tears, causing Wendy to smile weakly.

"Oh, Tinkerbell," she sighed, "I do not know how in the world I can help Peter, and it is so very hard to be here when it seems he would hate me if he knew who I truly am. What has happened to him to make him so?"

Tinkerbell chattered at some length, but Wendy could not understand much of what she was trying to say. It wasn't that Wendy couldn't understand the fairy language, but rather that Tink seemed to be trying to explain things for which she did not have words. One thing did seem clear: Tink did not want Wendy to leave. She insisted that Wendy could help, that Wendy was the **only** one who could help.

Wendy nodded bravely. "All right. I shall stay and do my best." Combing through her hair with her fingers, Wendy then began braiding it tightly once more. Tucking her braid inside the fur cap, Wendy told Tink, "I suppose I am prepared to continue the charade, as long as you are certain that it is the only way I can help him."

Tink nodded firmly, and then whispered her thanks and encouragement into Wendy's ear. For Tink knew that Wendy was the only person alive who loved Peter as well as she did herself, and she was immensely grateful that Wendy had agreed to help.

Smiling gently at Tinkerbell, Wendy said quietly, "I think I shall stay up here for a while. I couldn't bear to get back into the bed right now. It would be just too much. I shall stay and help as best I can, but for now I need a moment to collect myself."

Tinkerbell nodded and was gone in a flash, flying back down into the tree room to watch over Peter as he slept.

* * *

Peter woke slowly from a most delicious dream. It was one of **those** dreams, the ones that weren't nightmares but still disturbed him. For once, he did not feel so frightened upon awaking. Instead, he felt as if his body was tingling all over, as if fairies had been walking upon his skin. He felt an ache inside, an ache that was rather familiar but less unpleasant this morning. In fact, it felt almost ... pleasurable. He felt vaguely that the ache would be satisfied if he could only figure out how, but he had no ideas on that score. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes, enjoying how his body felt.

After a moment, however, he opened his eyes once more and frowned. Was this feeling in his body ... was it part of growing up? Was it because of "feelings"? Because if so then he did not want it, not at all. He must find a way to go back to being a boy! He had never wanted to grow up in the first place! This whole situation was Wendy's fault, of course. She was even in his dreams to make his life miserable.

Why couldn't everything go back to the way it was before he'd ever met her? Back when life was fun and simple and he was not alone and he did not feel this mysterious **ache**.

Oh how he wished that he could go back to that fateful night, and simply leave Wendy and her brothers in their nursery. His life would be good again. Oh ... oh how he wished!


	6. Another Lost Boy

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to all who left reviews. You're very kind and I really appreciate the encouragement. I'll be posting new chapters at least once per day until I've finished.

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Wendy's first day as a Lost Boy was really quite busy. Peter insisted that she learn to sword fight as well as use a bow and arrow. Otherwise, he explained, she would almost certainly be eaten by wild beasts, killed by Indians, or captured by pirates. Wendy nodded obediently and followed Peter where he led.

Peter took her to a small meadow beside the large hollow tree in which they'd watched the fairies dancing. Wendy felt a pang at seeing it again, remembering Peter's face illuminated by the fairy glow, remembering how he had danced with her in mid-air with fairies all 'round them.

Wendy gulped and purposely looked away from the tree, but still made an effort to avoid looking directly at Peter lest he recognize her. It was a constant and exhausting worry.

This seemed not to be a problem, however, as Peter had shown absolutely no glimmer of recognition since she had arrived. Now he just tossed the swords to the ground and pushed a bow into her hands, showing her how to hold it. His body was near to hers as he showed her where to place her hands, and she blushed. This wasn't going to work at all if she couldn't control her blushing. Eventually it would make him suspicious.

So she simply stepped away from Peter a bit. "Perhaps you could show me how you shoot an arrow, and then I can try it myself?"

Peter shrugged obligingly and took up the other bow, deftly notching an arrow. He then grimly shot the arrow straight into the side of the fairies' tree. Wendy gasped. Peter glanced at her. "Now you try."

Wendy could not bring herself to shoot at the tree where she had been so very happy, and so she turned in a different direction. She notched her arrow, aimed, and shot a haphazardly spiralling arrow which plummeted clumsily to the ground. She grimaced in embarrassment. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at this."

"You just need practice," Peter assured her. "Next thing you know, you'll be shooting birds right out of the sky." Wendy glanced at him quickly, wondering if he was referring to when the Lost Boys had shot her, and she had been saved by his acorn kiss. Surely not. He seemed not even to remember. Perhaps indeed he had forgotten her, just as he had forgotten her brothers when first they arrived in Neverland. Yes, he had most likely completely forgotten her. How else could he have not recognized her face? She must stop reading into every little thing he said, for yes, indeed, he must surely have forgotten her entirely.

This thought left Wendy rather forlorn, but she did not have the luxury of indulging her emotions, since Peter was standing beside her with his arms crossed, impatiently waiting for her to try another arrow. She tried to do as he had shown her, but her arrow still wobbled to the ground in a most undignified fashion.

"Perhaps I can just watch you for a while, to see how you do it?" Wendy suggested. Peter shrugged obligingly and picked up another arrow. Wendy was relieved to see that he decided to aim at a different tree, turning his back on the hollow tree of the fairies.

She watched him with some curiosity, not truly seeing his archery technique but rather taking this rare chance to examine the man-boy himself. Wendy was puzzled by the changes in Peter, for it wasn't only that he had grown large and more muscular, not only that the planes of his face had shifted and grown less soft ... he also had a strange air about him, so much more serious than the boy she had known. She missed his impish smile and his merry laugh, and she hadn't seen him fly even once. Who was this tall young man with the sad eyes? He looked so very much like her Peter, and yet his manner was entirely unfamiliar.

Wendy was lost in thought when Peter abruptly lowered his bow and turned, walking forward silently and scanning the forest with suspicious eyes. He had walked several feet away from her when she was suddenly tripped, and she found herself gagged with her hands and feet tied before she had even time to struggle. Princess Tigerlily stood looking down at her with a smug grin, then turned toward Peter. Wendy tried to struggle, to make enough noise to warn him, but he did not hear her.

Princess Tigerlily was still the same young girl she had been when Wendy last saw her, leading Wendy to ponder how on earth this child thought she could best a foe so much larger than herself. But then she saw Tigerlily raise a bow. Wendy wiggled awkwardly across the grass in search of the swords, and quickly found them. Peter was still walking toward the place where he had initially heard a twig snap, cautiously examining the forest that surrounded the small meadow.

Everything happened so quickly, Wendy could not have told afterward the exact sequence of events. She saw Tigerlily notch an arrow to her bow with a sly smile at Peter's back, and then suddenly Wendy herself was free, having sliced her bonds on the swords in the grass and frantically removed her gag.

Wendy leapt to her feet wielding a sword and shouted, "Princess Tigerlily!" at which exclamation both Tigerlily and Peter turned to gaze at her in surprise, even as Peter quickly drew his knife. "You take the coward's path in attacking Peter from the back. Turn and face me like a true warrior!" At this, Wendy brandished her sword and stood firmly on her two feet as Peter had once taught her, her left hand curved and extended gracefully for balance, her chin high.

Princess Tigerlily responded with a stream of language that Wendy could not understand, followed by a regal lift of her head. Wendy glanced questioningly in Peter's direction, still keeping her sword ready for an attack, particularly since Tigerlily was now wielding her bone knife in a rather menacing manner. "What did she say?" Wendy asked.

"I don't know," Peter responded. "I don't understand their language, either."

This caused Wendy to glance at him again in shock. He had communicated freely with the Indians when last she was here. What on earth had happened to change even **this**?

Wendy turned cautiously back toward Princess Tigerlily, who was still watching her with a rather haughty expression. Then, suddenly, the Indian princess's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she gazed in amazement at Wendy's face. Frightened that Tigerlily had recognized her when Peter had not, Wendy quickly spoke. "If you leave us in peace, you may depart this meadow without trouble. But if you attempt to harm either of us again, I can promise you here and now that I shall do my utmost to run you through until you are quite **quite** dead."

Princess Tigerlily gazed at Wendy for a few moments longer, as if she were considering what to say or do, and then nodded her head briefly before walking warily from the clearing to disappear among the trees.

Wendy sagged with relief. She had not realized that she remembered so much about using a sword, since she had not handled a weapon in more than four years. But she had dreamt of adventures often in enough that her dreams had kept her swordsmanship always at the ready.

"I'm impressed!" laughed Peter. "Can you **use** that thing as well as you brandish it?" He was grinning at her now, and it was that same mischievous smile she had missed so very much. It brought a broad smile to her own lips in response.

"I suppose you shall find out the answer to that question, won't you, Peter Pan?" And her smile spread even wider with the pure joy of having fun with him again.

But in that moment something odd happened. Peter's smile suddenly faltered and his eyes narrowed, focusing even more closely on her face. He murmured suspiciously, "You know ... it's the strangest thing, but ... you remind me of someone..." and the confusion that shone clearly in his eyes reassured Wendy that he had not yet placed her face, though it seemed a wise time to distract him.

"Why do you not speak the Indians' language? I thought ... I mean ... I mean, Tinkerbell **told** me that you once communicated with them quite easily."

Peter frowned. "Tink talks too much." He sheathed his knife once more and walked back toward where Wendy stood with her sword now lowered to the ground. "Yes, it's true that in the past I was friendly with the Indian tribe, but that has changed. I don't know why, but I just ... I stopped being able to understand them. I don't know if they changed their language or not, but ... I just can't understand them now." Peter kicked some dead leaves with frustration before adding reluctantly, "The mermaids don't come when I call anymore, either. And I can only understand the fairies when they wish it so, which is rare."

Peter stared off into the distance with a melancholy expression. "I was once as young as you, younger even. That was before Wendy came. Wendy ruined **everything**. After she left, even the leaves and the trees seemed to welcome me no more, as they now appear to change their locations so that I sometimes ... I sometimes..." Peter swallowed heavily, then said very quietly, "I sometimes get lost." He lifted his head to gaze angrily at the sky and branches above them. "Do you understand how wrong it is for **Pan** to become lost in Neverland? Do you?"

Wendy watched Peter with growing horror, shaking her head in refusal to believe that what he said was true, but Peter interpreted the shaking of her head to indicate lack of understanding. He turned to face her, so close they might have touched, and said sadly, "Neverland is rejecting me because I am growing up."


	7. Weakness

They walked back to the tree house in silence, since Wendy was really unsure what to say in response to all Peter had told her. She felt simultaneously guilty and resentful. Who was Peter to say that it was all her fault? How did he **know**? Maybe it had nothing to do with her! And blaming her when she wasn't here to defend herself was utterly ungallant and ungentlemanly!

Except, of course, that she **was** here to defend herself. Except that she **couldn't**, because he didn't know it was her. And it all just got wrapped up in such a horrid muddle that she decided to simply keep quiet for the time being. Peter seemed to be of the same mind, since he too held his tongue, his expression stormy. He really was rather more intimidating now that he was so grown, and the change by turns thrilled and frightened Wendy.

Days passed and they rarely spoke. Wendy each evening claimed not to be sleepy, and so did not share Peter's bed again. Instead, she fell asleep in one of the chairs, or sometimes took long walks in the moonlight. Then, when Peter went out during the day, she would oftentimes curl up on the bed to sleep during his absence. She did not know how often he arrived home to find her sleeping thus, or how silently he moved about the room to avoid waking her. Peter was confused that the new Lost Boy would not sleep in the same bed with him, but he of all people knew that boys can be strange creatures. This new boy seemed especially odd. He seemed frightfully uncomfortable with Peter looking at him, and so Peter kept himself busy with other pursuits, even when they inhabited the same room.

As for Wendy, she simply did not know what to say to Peter now that she knew what he thought of her. She would often sit on the platform high in their tree's branches, just gazing into the distance and wondering what she should do. Should she return home? Peter certainly would not want her help. It was obvious now why Tink had insisted on the disguise, though not why she had thought Wendy could help. Wendy now lived in fear that Peter would recognize her, fear that he might kill her on the spot for all he imagined she had done to him.

There were just so **very** many reasons why Wendy did not want to talk to Peter.

But, above all, it was because a pain had taken up residence in her heart, pain at the fact that he could hate her so deeply when all she had ever done was love him. She had dreamt such lovely dreams of him in her bed at home, she had felt such longing for him. To find that he in his turn had been cursing her name was a painful blow indeed. Sometimes it quite took the breath from her body, it cut so deep.

There were no more archery lessons, no sword practices, no joint explorations of Neverland. They lived parallel lives that barely interacted at all.

There came a point when Wendy simply could not bear the tension any longer. Granted, the tension was most likely entirely on her side, since Peter had no idea how truly muddled things had become, but she simply could not take it anymore.

One day when Peter had gone for a walk or some such (he rarely told her what he was doing, after all) with Tinkerbell, Wendy waited for him to come back, then asked him if they might talk up on the branch platform. It had become her favorite place, where she felt safest, most at home. She was dreading this conversation, and so wished to talk where she might be most comfortable.

They climbed up the rungs, one after the other, and soon they both sat cross-legged among the leaves. Peter raised an eloquent eyebrow in question, silently urging Wendy to explain why she had wanted him here. Tinkerbell hovered over his right shoulder where Wendy could see her, as if trying to lend Wendy additional courage simply through her small presence.

Wendy felt almost ill with anxiety. This was a horrid idea, and she should leave immediately. She simply could not bear to hear more of his poisonous comments about herself. And yet nor could she leave things as they were. She needed to learn the answers to some questions if she was ever to help him ... and she needed to help him if she was ever to return home in good conscience.

Wendy smoothed her damp palms along her trouser legs and took a deep breath. She glanced quickly at Peter, and then away again, back down at her hands. "I was wondering ... or rather ... I wanted to ask you..." Wendy glanced at him again, her eyes pleading a message he could not interpret. Wendy cleared her throat. "The other day ... you mentioned someone named Wendy..." she began hesitantly.

Peter interrupted her, "You want to know about Wendy? Why would you want to know about **her**? She is nothing but a girl. And girls are not to be trusted." His voice was harsh and unforgiving, which -- truth be told -- only strengthened Wendy's resolve. She would find out why he spoke such horrible things and then she would show him how very wrong he was about her.

"You said that everything is her fault. How? What did she do?" Wendy braced herself for more painful words.

Peter looked out at the distant lagoon for a moment before saying seriously, "Wendy showed Captain Hook my greatest weakness, and he has been using it to torment me ever since."

"Captain Hook? But he is dead!" Wendy gasped, before catching herself and adding quickly, "I mean, Tinkerbell **told** me he had died."

Peter gestured vaguely, "Oh, he always comes back. Neverland is like that."

Wendy frowned in some confusion before remembering what he had said moments before. "Wendy helped him find your weakness? What weakness?"

Peter looked down at his hands, so much larger than they once were, and softly said, "Fear of growing up." Then his voice became louder, more strident as he concluded, "And now it has happened, and it is all Wendy's fault!"

"How?" asked Wendy. "How did Hook make you grow up?"

"Since he learned that I feared it above all things, Hook has been working to make me as old as him." Then Peter added softly, so softly Wendy almost did not hear, "Old, alone, done for."

He then shook his head, as if to clear some cobwebs, and explained "He has a poison which he places on his blade. Every time he so much as nicks me in a fight, I grow just a little bit more. Soon I shall be as old as he is."

Peter did not add -- because it would have been likely to embarrass and perhaps even humiliate him -- that this had begun to cause him fear all too often, making him even sometimes afraid to fight, lest he grow even older as a result of some small wound. He was losing his confidence and leaving his tree home less and less often.

Neither Peter nor Wendy noticed Tinkerbell's horrified expressions during this explanation, nor her sudden departure with a determined look in her tiny eye.

Peter continued, "After doing this, after ruining my life even this far, Wendy was not done. She took the Lost Boys away from me and left me here alone, with Tink as my only friend." Upon saying this, Peter looked around for Tinkerbell, but was distracted by Wendy's sudden movement.

Wendy simply could not suffer this abuse in silence any longer. She had done Peter no purposeful harm, and his abuse of her was simply too cruel. If she was to stay any longer to help him, it would be honestly, as herself. And so though her fear of Peter's reaction set her hands atremble, she determinedly removed her fur cap and gazed at Peter in silence.

When he merely stared back at her, she unbraided her hair and combed her fingers through it, her eyes always on his.

After another long moment, Wendy asked quietly, "Do you not recognize me, Peter? Have I grown up so much?"

And, indeed, it was partially the changes to her face which had helped disguise her from him, but now that the hat was removed and her hair flowed around her shoulders, Peter could no longer deny that this truly was Wendy, and had been from the start.

Wendy saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. He looked very, very angry. And he had a knife. Why oh why had she brought no weapon? Stupid, stupid Wendy!

But Peter did not strike out at her in any way. He simply turned from her, clambered to his feet, and stood at the edge of the platform. He looked so very lost, as if he might be hurting as much as she. But when Wendy stood to approach him, reaching out her hand, he looked toward her, and his face was ugly with pain and anger. "Get away from me!" he shouted, tears in his voice. "I don't need you! I don't want you here! So just GO HOME and leave me alone!" whereupon he abruptly flew away through the leaves and out of sight. Wendy was left gaping at where he had been, tears springing to her eyes. She sat again upon the platform and hugged her knees to her chest. What would become of them now? Should she in fact go home? Was there any possible way she could help Peter? And the most difficult question of all: Was this truly all her fault?

In hopes of comfort from a friend, Wendy looked around for Tinkerbell, but the fairy was nowhere to be found.


	8. A Powerful Thing

Indeed, Peter could still fly, though it was no longer the easy task it had once been. Flying now took his effort and concentration, and often wasn't quite worth the bother. But this had been a situation in which his desire to get away quickly had been worth any amount of effort.

Peter landed on the beach of the Mermaids' Lagoon. He knew the mermaids would not come in answer to his piping, but he simply made sure not to go too close to the water lest he tempt them to mischief. This place had long been his refuge when he needed answers to difficult questions, and such a time was certainly now.

Wendy! Wendy had returned! But why? After all this time? And why had she lied to him, pretended to be a Lost Boy? It had been a terrible shock to see her face, after he had spent such a very long time telling himself rather unkind stories about her.

Wendy had long ago ceased to be real to Peter, and had become, instead, a sore place in his heart which had grown larger with every day. Though he had grown up in many respects, in some ways Peter was still a very selfish boy, and once Wendy had left, he had shamelessly twisted his memories to explain current circumstances. In fact, he had been so very busy blaming her that he had forgotten what the true Wendy was really like.

And here she was, real. The real, true Wendy, come back. It was almost impossible to believe.

Thinking of his last sight of her only moments before, Peter felt his heart hurting in his chest as he remembered her eyes, so sad, because of his words. Yes, he had most likely been unfair, he saw that now, now that he was forced to look at his own words and examine them for truth. It was an unpleasant experience.

Pulling out his long-ago memories to examine them, Peter somewhat ashamedly remembered Wendy's kindness and patience, as well as her bravery. Well, that had certainly remained true, as evidenced by her defense of him against Princess Tigerlily in the meadow.

Peter blinked suddenly, realizing what it meant that the new Lost Boy had been Wendy all along. He quickly searched his memories of the days since he -- or rather **she** -- had arrived. His eyes grew wide as he recalled her refusals to sleep in his bed when he was present. She had not wanted to be near him? He suddenly remembered several different times when she had stepped away from his body. He then frowned, wondering why she should always feel this constant urge to be far from him. Did he smell bad? He looked down at his hands and feet, admitting reluctantly that they **were** rather dirty, as was always the case, though under normal circumstances he rarely noticed.

So perhaps she was simply fastidious. Wendy always had cared about such things more than he did. She would rather sleep in a pointy chair than be near his dirty feet? This of course led to thoughts of perhaps bathing in the waterfall pool so that she might find him less offensive. Which in turn led to thoughts of Wendy then sleeping in his bed with him. Which in turn led to memories of some of his recent dreams. This time it was Peter who was blushing, though he was not entirely sure why, only that it had something to do with the ache inside.

Wendy had become so beautiful! Even more beautiful than he remembered. She was now a lady, and not a girl. She was so grown ... Peter found himself remembering other more cruel dreams, as well as Hook's taunts. Did she now have a "husband"? Would she leave Peter again, only to return to some ... man?

Scowling, Peter pressed a hand to his chest, frustrated to feel its responses to his thoughts. Why did "feelings" hurt so much? He once again began to blame Wendy for the "feelings", but stopped himself. Perhaps he had grown up in this regard, without even realizing it. He wanted the "feelings" to go away, but he did not blame Wendy for their presence. His own body was working against him, this he had known for a long time now.

Thinking back on the accusations he had made against Wendy, Peter admitted reluctantly that Hook may have learned of Peter's weakness by talking with Wendy, but she had certainly not done it on purpose. One moment looking at Wendy's face back in the tree had brought back all his neglected memories of her goodness, and he found himself momentarily quite ashamed of his own words and behavior.

But Peter had never been one to dwell on his own shortcomings or to gladly admit to being wrong, and so he flew back toward the tree house determined to hold out until Wendy had first apologized for lying to him about being a Lost Boy. And for leaving him in the first place. And for having a "husband". And for not coming back sooner. And for thinking he was smelly.

By the time he was half-way back to the tree, he had quite convinced himself that **he** was the injured party and that Wendy should be quite pleased that he had returned so promptly to hear her apologies.

* * *

Wendy, meanwhile, had climbed down from her safe haven and ventured out away from the tree. The tree home simply reminded her too strongly of Peter at the moment, and she needed to get away. _I don't need you! I don't want you here!_ Could Peter really be so cruel?

Without planning, she found herself at the meadow where Princess Tigerlily had nearly attacked Peter during their unsuccessful archery lesson. Wendy walked to the fairies' hollow tree and touched Peter's arrow with a hesitant finger. It protruded from the side of the tree at a painful angle, and Wendy found herself sorry on the tree's behalf, wishing there was something she could do to make up for Peter's rash action.

But then she shook her head, tears beginning to fall once more. Peter hurt so many around him, and never seemed to care. Was he really so heartless? She was far from home in some insane effort to help a boy who hated her. It was ridiculous. Wendy sat upon one of the large tree roots and put her face in her hands, abandoning herself to her confused tears.

Upon hearing a tinkling sound, she raised her face from her hands, only to find herself surrounded by a large number of fairies. Dozens of fairies, in fact, all flitting about her as if she were some particularly beautiful flower.

Wendy asked, "Have I trespassed by sitting here?" She was uncertain why else the fairies would gather about her so.

"No," responded one of the fairies, and Wendy recognized the handsome form of the Fairy King, whom she and Peter had watched dancing in the hollow tree. It appeared that the entire fairy court was present, including the Fairy Queen as well.

"Why are you crying?" asked one of the fairies, and Wendy realized that the members of the fairy court seemed to speak somewhat more clearly than Tinkerbell, relying less on gestures to make their meaning known.

"My heart hurts," explained Wendy awkwardly. She wasn't sure how else to explain it without going into far too much detail. It was just all so complicated!

"Pan," said the Fairy Queen, drawing Wendy's surprised attention. "Pan has hurt your heart."

Wendy nodded, worried that she might be arousing the fairies' anger against him, since everyone else in Neverland seemed to hate Peter already. But she worried for naught.

"He has hurt his own heart, as well," explained the Fairy King gently.

The Fairy Queen's smile was lovely as she hovered before Wendy's face to tell her, "Pan had never been kissed, you see. He was still a little boy. The first kiss changes that." She swooped closer to gently kiss Wendy's cheek before adding, "A kiss is a powerful thing."

Wendy asked uncertainly, "So Peter was right? This really **is** all my fault?"

The Fairy King watched her face as he replied, "Your first kiss opened Pan's eyes to a different world, and he could not be the same afterward. But that is not truly the source of Pan's greatest difficulties."

Wendy glanced from one fairy to another, confusion obvious in her eyes. "Then what **is** the problem?"

The Fairy Queen joined hands with her King and said solemnly, "Neverland is changing because Pan has lost his joy."

Wendy frowned. "He's lost his joy? Why? How? Because of my kiss?" But the fairies had gone in a shower of glittering fairy dust, and she sat alone on the tree root, alone and worried. "Then it really **is** all my fault. I **must** stay to help him, now that I know!"

Wendy stood and brushed herself off, then turned to walk with great determination and responsibility back toward the tree house.

* * *

But flying is a much more efficient means of travel than walking, and so Peter arrived home before her. He looked everywhere for Wendy, including up on the look-out platform, but he could find her nowhere.

_Get away from me! I don't need you! I don't want you here! So just GO HOME and leave me alone!_ Peter suddenly remembered his rash words and worried that Wendy had done as he'd demanded and already left him. His thoughts were a jumble of anger with her for being gone, sadness that he had been abandoned once again, and guilt for being so mean to her.

But perhaps she was simply out for a walk. Tinkerbell would know where she had gone. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Tink in a while, which was rather unusual.

"Tinkerbell!" he called. "Tinkerbell!" But there was no answer. Frowning, Peter tried to remember when he had last seen her. It had been when he and Wendy were on the look-out platform earlier.

And then, all in a rush, Peter remembered. _Hook has a poison which he places on his blade._ Tink had heard him! She must have gone to the Jolly Roger! The painful memory of Tink's death after she drank the poisoned medicine rushed through Peter, clouding his mind such that he did not even realize he was shouting in desperation:

"Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnk!"


	9. Poison

**Author's Notes:** Thanks again to those who have left reviews. I know this fic will not get a large number of reviews, simply because I am writing it so quickly that it won't be floating around for as long as most fics do. As a result, though, I particularly appreciate those who do take the time to review. Every single review means a lot to me. And I'd like to give special thanks to Mara Trinity Scully, who has left a few quite detailed reviews. Thank you, Mara!

And away we go, with a nice long chapter this time. :)

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Tinkerbell had sped ever so quickly to the Jolly Roger, determined to find and destroy this poison which Peter had said was causing him to grow up. She had thought that only Wendy could save Peter this time, but it now appeared that Tink herself might be able to help as well.

Tiny as she was, Tinkerbell was easily able to hide such that none of the pirates was even aware of her presence. She found her way to Hook's quarters, which were currently empty, and began her frantic search.

She found his glass case filled with various vials and bottles and was easily able to open the door, but then found herself confounded. Which bottle held the poison? She could not take them all with her! Sitting atop one bottle's cork, she tapped her forehead with one tiny finger, deep in thought.

Suddenly, she made a happy sound and hopped to her feet. She could take one bottle at a time and simply throw them overboard! She first grabbed the skull-topped bottle of red poison which had so nearly killed her on a previous occasion. She did not, of course, remember that day, since fairy memories are so very very short, but she felt a vague sense that this bottle was particularly dangerous.

The bottle was approximately the same size as Tinkerbell, though considerably heavier and rather unwieldy. In addition, she knew that she must be very careful with the bottle, lest the poison spill and land upon her.

With a great deal of effort, however, she was indeed able to take the bottle to the edge of the ship and drop it into the waves. None of the pirates even heard the small splash.

Tinkerbell rapidly flew back into Hook's quarters, worried that he might return and notice the change to the contents of his glass box before she was able to finish. She grabbed another bottle, this one slightly smaller and with a handle, which made carrying considerably easier. She quickly dropped it into the ocean and flew back, wiping a waterfall of fairy dust from her forehead as if she had been sweating. Of course, fairies do not sweat, and she was simply being overly dramatic. It was something of a personal failing, if the truth be known.

Three more bottles and their mysterious contents had made their way into the water before Tinkerbell found it necessary to rest for a moment. Though fairies do not get tired the same way that you and I do, they do need to replenish their energy regularly or they find themselves with a shortage of fairy dust and unable to fly so quickly as usual.

And so Tinkerbell was sitting on top of the glass case, casually swinging her legs from the edge, when Hook returned. Tink grimaced in dismay and quickly ducked behind the case, peeking around the edge to watch whether he was staying or simply stopping in for something.

Unfortunately, he sat down behind his desk and leaned his chin upon his good hand, scratching the other cheek with his hook. "How to lure Pan back to the ship?" he muttered quietly to himself, turning his eyes thoughtfully toward the ceiling.

Grateful that he had not yet noticed his somewhat depleted poison collection, Tink began edging her way toward the door, flying rapidly between various hiding places. Luckily, Hook was lost in thought and did not see her light.

And then, suddenly, from outside of the room, most likely from the deck of the ship, both inhabitants of the room heard a no-longer-boyish voice call out melodiously, "Tiiiiinkerbellllll!"

* * *

Peter did not actually stand upon the deck of the ship, but instead floated above it. This, too, was an occasion that called for flying, even if it might leave him exhausted afterward. Keeping Tink safe was important, but it wouldn't do to be captured by the pirates in the process!

Unfortunately, in his arrogance, Peter had not realized how tired he had already become from his earlier flight from his conversation with Wendy. When Tinkerbell flew from Hook's quarters to circle rapidly around Peter's head, he smiled gladly and turned to leave, but he did not move quickly enough. A net settled over him and he was abruptly dragged to the ground, kicking and fighting, in the center of some dozen hideously ugly pirates.

Tinkerbell flew through the mesh of the net and attacked the gathered pirates as best she could, but they ignored her quite rudely. Almost immediately, Hook emerged calmly from his quarters and walked toward them. Tink flew into his face and kicked him and hit him and even tried to blind him by flying ever so close to his eye, but Hook merely brushed her aside and sent her careening into the nearest mast, so that she slid to the deck in a shower of dazed fairy dust.

"Pan," Hook smiled with smug pleasure. "I only moments ago found myself wondering how I might tempt you to my ship so that you would fall into our trap. It's so very **obliging** of you to take care of the matter for us by showing up of your own accord."

Peter struggled angrily, but found himself restrained by too many men. He looked around for Tinkerbell, but she was gone again. He was going to have a serious talk with her when this was finished, for her constant disappearances were growing rather tiresome.

"I only came because I know you cannot kill me!" Pan boasted. "You never have and you never will!"

"Oh, my dear boy," purred Pan with a coy glance, "or should I say ... **man**," at which word Peter redoubled his struggles while Hook chuckled, "I long ago realized that I get far more enjoyment from **tormenting** you than I could ever get from your death. Watching you squirm is just so..." and here he rolled his eyes upward as if in thought, as if searching for the word he wanted, then looked back at Pan with a gleam in his eye, "... **delicious**."

"You can't hurt me!" insisted Peter bravely, though in his heart he knew it was not true.

"Oh, Pan, reeeeally," Hook admonished gently. "There need be no such lies between us ... as **men** of honor."

"You? Honor? You don't even know the meaning of the word!"

"Oh, I assure you that I **do**, young man." Peter flinched with Hook's every use of that dreaded word. "Have you never heard of 'honor among thieves'?"

"No," Peter replied, "for I am sure that such a thing does not exist."

With a sly smile, Hook said, "Whether pirates have honor or no, your fine **Wendy** seemed to like us well enough. She did, after all, sit in my quarters and talk with me at some length during her visit. She seemed rather **taken** with me, in fact, if I do say so myself. Oh, how sorry I am that she left us **all** behind to go home."

Peter scowled and struggled helplessly against the clutches of a dozen men larger than himself.

Hook simply smiled a rather condescending smile and gestured to his crew with one hand, still watching Peter's face with great enjoyment. "Let us discuss this further in more **comfortable** quarters, shall we?"

The pirates lifted Peter, still writhing in the net in his helpless bid to escape, and carried him between them as they followed Captain Hook.

* * *

After her conversation with the fairy court, Wendy had walked back to Peter's tree home as quickly as she could, but her walking pace was considerably slower than Peter and Tinkerbell's flying. By the time Wendy arrived, both were long gone to the Jolly Roger. Wendy, of course, did not know this, and simply assumed that Peter had not returned after flying away from her with his cruel words.

She sat in one of the wood and fur chairs and puzzled over the various problems affecting Peter, determined to find a solution. She had only been sitting but a moment, however, when Tinkerbell flew into the room with a frantic jingling and jangling and pulling of Wendy's shirt.

"Hook has Peter?" Wendy cried. "But what can we do?"

Tinkerbell shrugged, but then pulled at Wendy's shirt once more, urging her to come help, trusting that she would save Peter always, as she had saved him once.

Wendy ignored Tink's ranting and pulling for a moment, thinking hard. "Let's sneak onto the ship and see what we're facing."

Tink nodded, and then showered Wendy head-to-toe with fairy dust. Wendy nodded in understanding. "Let's fly!"

It was the first time Wendy had ever flown without Peter's help, and it was really quite thrilling. She felt remarkably wonderful, as if she were truly a part of Neverland as much as Peter had ever been. She found herself laughing delightedly as she flew, and a certainty entered her heart. Soaring through the air, she **knew** she could save Peter. She needed only figure out how.

When the two conspirators arrived at the Jolly Roger, Wendy was surprised that no pirates were about. She glanced at Tinkerbell, who simply shrugged her small shoulders.

Wendy landed without a sound on the deck of the pirate ship, then cautiously made her way toward Hook's quarters, as it was the only source of sound. The captain appeared to be once again playing his harpsichord and singing the song he had written himself.

_Yo ho yo ho the frisky plank,  
You walks along it so,  
Till it goes down and you goes down  
To Davy Jones below!*_

Wendy nearly giggled at this, but quickly put her hand over her mouth to avoid alerting Hook to her presence. She had often thought of this song since first she had heard it, and had frequently puzzled over how on earth a plank could be considered "frisky". She clapped her hand tighter over her mouth lest her long-contained giggle escape.

Hook had stopped playing now, and Wendy flew silently toward the door, which she then peered around so that she could see into the room. It looked much the same as it had looked when last she had been there, when Hook had first invited her to piracy. The only change she noticed was the manacles hanging from the far wall ... and the boy-man hanging from them.

At the sight of Peter so imprisoned, Wendy nearly did cry out, but luckily Tinkerbell saw the imminent danger, and quickly pressed Wendy's lips together with all her strength. When Wendy had control of herself once more, she nodded her chagrined thanks to the fairy and peered into the room again.

Hook had walked toward Peter and was talking to him quietly. Wendy strained to hear.

"You make a rather decorative addition to my little room here, Pan. I think I shall keep you here until you no longer amuse me. Of course, you might be **dead** by then."

Even hanging in the manacles, Peter was proud in the face of his foe. In his heart, he was afraid lest Hook cut him once more and set him to growing up again, but he would not let Hook see his fear. Peter simply stared at the pirate with hatred and defiance.

"So, my dear Pan, have you seen your precious Wendy of late? Visited her window, perhaps? I'm sure she has found herself a very fine **husband** by now." Hook had discovered that the only thing Pan liked less than hearing the word "man" was hearing the word "Wendy", and so he used it as often as possible. The absolute best sentences, of course, were those which contained both words together.

"Yes, I'm sure our beautiful **Wendy** has found herself a very fine man to be her husband. For no matter how large you grow, Pan, you shall never be **man** enough for a woman such as our Wendy has surely become."

"Do not call her 'our' Wendy," Peter hissed. "She was never yours!"

Hook smiled as if Peter had fallen into yet another trap, as indeed he had. "Nor was she ever **yours**, Peter Pan. If she had been, she would never have left you. Is that not so?"

There was hurt in Peter's eyes when he said, "She ... she said she had to grow up."

The pirate captain idly rubbed his hook along Peter's neck -- causing Peter to try to flatten himself to get away from the possible scratch -- and said, "Yes, dear sweet Wendy had to grow up, and so she **left** you. And yet here you are, growing up, yourself ... quite **quite** alone."

Tears sprang to Peter's eyes, and Wendy could watch no more. She ducked out of the doorway, coming face to face with Tinkerbell. Wendy motioned for her to follow, then walked further from the door so that she could whisper without being heard.

"Hook does not know I am here in Neverland," whispered Wendy urgently. "So perhaps I can surprise him enough to grab his attention, while you find the key and release Peter."

Tinkerbell nodded, then flew quickly into the room to hide inside a really rather morbid human skull. Through the eye sockets, Tink gazed urgently around the room, then jumped so happily when she saw the key on Hook's desk that she inadvertently bumped her head on the top of the skull.

At the small sound, Hook turned away from Peter, eyeing the room suspiciously. What he saw made his jaw drop open. A lovely young woman walked into his quarters with a small smile dancing upon her lips. She was dressed rather oddly in men's attire, but the glorious waves of her hair, the fullness of her lips, the blueness of her eyes, and the delicacy of her features left no doubt whatsoever about her identity.

"Wendy!" gasped Captain Hook, utterly unaware that a fairy had just sped toward his desk and snatched something from it.

"Hello, Captain Hook," Wendy replied calmly, though her heart beat loudly in her chest. She kept her eyes on the pirate, lest he suspect that something was happening behind his back.

The tall man walked toward her, and when he was very close, reached up his good hand to stroke her hair. "Always so beautiful," he murmured, his hand moving to cup her cheek. And then, without looking away from her face, he said smugly, "Watch, Pan, and see how your Wendy loves you," and his hooked arm moved so very quickly about her waist, pulling her tightly against him. He smirked into her face briefly, and then lowered his head toward her, his eyes trained on her lips.

When his lips had very nearly touched hers, Hook was violently wrenched away, only to find himself on the floor of his quarters, at the point of a sword wielded by a **very** displeased Peter Pan.

"Don't ... you ... touch her!" Peter warned coldly.

"Where is the poison?" asked Wendy from behind Peter.

"What poison?" asked Hook, his narrowed eyes still on the sword at his throat and the man-boy who was wielding it.

Wendy demanded, "The poison you have been using to make Peter grow up! Where is it?"

And at that, Captain Hook began to laugh. If he had not been lying on the ground and there had not been a sword at his throat, he most assuredly would have thrown his head back to let the laugh grow even more hearty.

Grinning at Peter and then shaking his head in mock sympathy, Hook said, "Oh my dear Pan, much as it pains me, I am afraid I cannot help you. But how very delightful that you have assumed this was my doing!" At their confused expressions, Hook explained, "I have been using no poison, you see."

"No poison?" cried Peter. "He must be lying! You're **lying**! Where is the poison!"

Wendy, a bit calmer, though still quite distressed by this latest turn of events, asked, "If you have been using no poison, then what has been making Peter grow up?"

Still smug even at Pan's sword point, Hook smiled, "I have merely been enjoying the effects. I assure you, my sweet Wendy, that I am not the cause."

Peter's sword pressed tighter against Hook's throat, drawing a drop of blood. "Do not call her that."

"The lady does not seem to object," Hook replied, but got no further, for Peter interrupted him.

"Get the key, Wendy. And you, Hook, get up slowly and walk toward the wall." Hook raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. Though Hook might prefer Pan alive and squirming, he was quite aware that Pan had no such feelings about him. Pan would gladly see him dead if the game between them no longer amused him.

Peter kept Hook at sword point while Wendy locked him into the manacles. The arm with the hook easily slipped out, of course, but having the rest of Hook's limbs trapped would at least give them time to get away. Once the pirate was fairly securely confined, Peter and Wendy ran from the room to meet Tinkerbell on the deck.

"Quick!" said Peter. "Before the rest of the pirates return!" Wendy took his hand, for on some level she could feel that her strength was currently greater than his own. Peter looked at their linked hands, then looked at her with a rather odd expression on his face before lifting them both in the air.

Tinkerbell led the way back to the tree house, and Peter and Wendy followed. When they arrived, they landed silently on the look-out platform. Peter looked down into Wendy's face for a long moment. Tinkerbell rolled her eyes and went downstairs.

"You were going to give him a thimble," accused Peter with quiet anger. And, though he would not have admitted it, more than a little hurt. "You said it would always be mine!" Wendy opened her mouth to reply, but before she could make a sound Peter had pulled her into his arms, his lips meeting hers in what was not a soft, gentle kind of kiss, but rather a kiss of passionate emotion, driven by all of Peter's fear, hurt, anger, jealousy, and frustration of the past few hours.

Wendy could not fight her own feelings for him, and so she melted in his arms, twining her fingers into his hair and tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

Peter felt like he was flying once more! It was like his dreams, those **other** dreams ... only more so. It was more exciting, more wonderful, more confusing, and even more frightening. His body was reacting in too many strange ways, as if it were not under his control. His heart beat so hard that it was nearly painful, and he could not seem to stop himself from grasping hold of Wendy to press her even closer as their kiss continued. It was truly frightening to feel that his body had a mind of its own. Peter did not **want** to lose control.

He abruptly pulled away from Wendy, their moist lips parting reluctantly. Her eyes were closed, but when she opened them, she gazed up into his face with eyes gone dark with passion. Peter wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, and even that want scared him. After all, in a great many ways, he was still little more than a boy.

Pushing Wendy away from him, Peter bit his lip, still watching her face, and then looked away into the forest.

"Peter?" Wendy began, but Peter interrupted her.

"I have to go," he said quickly, afraid of what she might say, afraid that she might ask him about "feelings" and "love" and he did not want to talk about those things, did not want to **feel** those things. "I'll be back later." And then he flew away from the look-out platform for the second time in one day.

Wendy stood there, still rather dazed by their kiss, and reached up a hand to wonderingly touch her lips. This hadn't been like the last time, when he had been dreaming. Now he knew it was her.

They still had plenty of difficulties to face, but one thing was certain: Peter Pan had been kissing **her**.

Wendy wrapped her arms around herself and laughed with joy.

__________________

**Author's Footnote**

* This is the version of Hook's song that is in J.M. Barrie's book, rather than the version used in the film. I switched them because I like the Davy Jones line better than the last line in the movie.


	10. A Choice

The next few days passed in near silence. Peter had told Wendy that she should return home, and she had refused, and both felt there was little else to say. And regarding their argument before the encounter with Hook, each felt that the other should apologize first, and so no apologies at all were exchanged. It was a rather tense living arrangement in the old hollow tree.

Occasionally, Peter would relent in his silence, only to insist, "You should go home, Wendy." He was concerned, you see, about Hook, who had shown such interest in her. Concerned that Hook might come after her and catch Wendy when Peter was not there to protect her. But he did not say this, for he did not wish to discuss his reasons. Wendy should do as he said, and that was all there was to it.

Except, of course, that Wendy was not that sort of young lady. The Lost Boys may have followed Peter's orders, but she was not one of his lordship's subjects. Every time he so arrogantly ordered her to go home, Wendy would simply lift her chin and say firmly, "I'm going to help you whether you like it or not, Peter Pan ... so you may as well learn to like it."

Oddly enough, Hook actually left them alone. His ego had been rather bruised by Pan's treatment of him at their last meeting, and so he withdrew to plan a more elaborate trap. But, if truth be told, as Pan had grown, Hook had found him less and less entertaining. Life in Neverland was becoming rather dull for the pirates, and they were not alone in this, for change had been spreading throughout the island.

But in our hollow tree, life was anything but dull. It was, in truth, quite humming with unsaid words.

Now that her secret was out, Wendy had stopped binding her chest, and had taken to wearing her hair down and a vine wrapped securely about her narrow waist. Though she still wore a boy's clothing, she now looked remarkably little like a boy. Peter found himself quite dumbfounded that he had ever missed the fact that she was in truth a woman, for now he found himself hard-pressed to keep his eyes off of her slenderly curved form. One day he shook himself from a daydream to find that he had absentmindedly whittled a representation of her feminine shape, much to his embarrassment.

It could certainly not be denied that Wendy now looked quite, quite different than she had as a girl. And the changes were far from bad.

And Peter was not the only one feeling so physically aware, for Wendy too found herself much more aware of Peter since their passionate kiss upon the look-out. He had grown to be quite handsome, and now that she was not in disguise and needing to hide her face or avoid eye contact, Wendy found herself drinking in the sight of him at every opportunity.

In truth, both found the sight of each other's bodies both exciting and confusing, and this emotional reaction led both to an embarrassed shyness that deadened almost all conversation. They barely spoke.

The bed continued to be an issue, as Peter did not understand why Wendy would not sleep in it if he was also there. Did she fear that he would kill her in her sleep? She should know that he would never hurt her. Or was it, indeed, that she found him in some way repellant? After some careful observation of her behavior, he found the latter to be increasingly likely, which hurt his feelings quite a great deal. He sometimes considered asking her what was wrong, but his courage always deserted him. He was rather loathe to hear what it was about him that she found so very horrible.

Every few days, Wendy travelled to the pool below the waterfall and bathed. When she had been here as a girl, she had not even noticed how dirty she became, but now as a young woman she found herself much more sensitive to such things. She did not wish to look like a street urchin streaked with dirt ... particularly when Peter would see her.

And see her he did, for Peter was ever worried about Hook, and so he followed Wendy on her trips to the pool. He always stayed at a distance, behind bushes and trees, with his knife cautiously drawn, but he would never have admitted how much he relished the brief glances he caught of Wendy's pale, wet skin. He would have insisted that he went solely for her protection, but in truth it was more than that and on some level he knew it to be so.

One day Wendy returned from her bath to find a strange new piece of furniture in the tree room. Peter had been working on it for some days, hiding it in a different part of the forest so that it could be a surprise.

"What is this?" asked Wendy, tilting her head to one side to examine the new addition to their little home.

"It is a bed," explained Peter, his eyes on the ground.

The new bed was really no more than a narrow pallet with a few furs thrown upon, but Wendy was touched by the gesture. "For me?" she asked with a smile.

Peter glanced up briefly and shook his head, "No, of course not! It is for me. I shall sleep here as long as you are in Neverland, so that you may have the proper bed." Looking away and swallowing, Peter then added, "I know how you dislike being near me, and so I thought this best."

Wendy was quite shocked at this statement. "Dislike being near you?" she asked before thinking to stop herself lest she give away how very wrong he was.

Peter nodded, then looked up to meet her eyes, gathering his courage to finally ask. "Is it because I smell?" He blushed with shame and looked again at the dirt floor, and his dirty, surely terribly smelly feet.

"No, Peter! No!" Wendy had taken hold of his arm, urging him to look into her face. She placed one hand flat against his cheek and smiled gently. "No, it was never that at all."

Peter relaxed slightly. She was being so nice to him! He found her smile, and her willingness to touch him, gave him the courage to ask the real question he had been avoiding for some time now. When he spoke, the words came out in a rush of self-conscious confusion. "Then what is it, Wendy? Why do you always step away when I'm near? And why don't you wish to sleep near me? It is warmer that way, and I promise I will not hurt you. I could even not wear my knife, if you prefer."

Wendy blushed such a horrid color of pink that she would have been quite horrified if she'd seen herself in a mirror at that very moment. "It would not be proper," she explained primly.

"Not proper?" Peter frowned. "But this is **Neverland**. We can do whatever we like, here. Proper doesn't matter."

Her blush spreading down her neck and disappearing into the neckline of her shirt, Wendy found herself quite at a loss to explain. It was true that things were different in Neverland, but she was still a lady!

"Peter," Wendy began hesitantly, "ladies do not sleep in the same beds with gentlemen."

Peter smiled, "Well, I am not a gentleman!"

Wendy laughed at his response. "In some respects you are, though, Peter. Did you not make this bed out of respect for my wishes?"

"Is that a gentleman?" asked Peter with a curious tilt of the head.

Nodding, Wendy said, "It is. A gentleman has regard for a lady, treating her with kindness and respect."

Frowning in his attempt to understand, Peter asked, "And a gentleman does not sleep in the same bed with a lady? Even if it is warmer and there is only one comfortable bed in the tree?"

"Well, a gentleman only sleeps in the same bed with a lady if they are married." Wendy was finding this conversation increasingly distressing. She did not want to have to explain marriage and children to Peter. She thought she might die of embarrassment before it was all finished!

Peter stood tall and smiled, "Well, then, we shall be married!"

Gently shaking her head, Wendy took Peter's hand, "No, Peter. I think you do not understand what married means."

Peter pulled his hand from hers and insisted, "I do. The fairies have weddings, when two wish to be bound to each other. I have attended some of their ceremonies, when the fairies still welcomed me in their midst."

Wendy was quiet for several moments, rather surprised and trying to decide what she should say to Peter on this subject, but he spoke before she, hurt by her silence.

"You do not wish to be married to me," Peter said quietly. "I understand." And he turned to leave.

But Wendy grasped his hand firmly and pulled him back toward her so that she could see his face. Tears were in his eyes, and he stubbornly turned his face away.

"Peter," she said softly, "we cannot marry simply because there is only one bed. That is not why people are married. It is ... it is to stay with each other and help each other always."

"Always?" asked Peter hesitantly. He still had some difficulty understanding the concept, but the passage of time had become increasingly real to him since he began growing up.

Wendy smiled gently and nodded, "Always. So you see we cannot be married, Peter, for you wish to become a boy again, and when we find a way to make you a boy again, I shall still be a woman." Speaking the words hurt, but it was a truth she had been denying for too long, allowing herself to cloak this handsome man-Peter in too many of her wishes and hopes.

Swallowing her own tears, Wendy added, "And so we can only enjoy this time we have until that day, for we will eventually find your answer, and when you are a boy again, I shall have to leave."

Peter heard that last word over and over again in his mind, remembering his dream Wendy saying _You are deficient. What could you possibly have to offer me? I'm going home._ He had heard it so often in his dreams, but it hurt a hundred times more to hear it for real.

But Peter restrained himself from acting on his first childish instinct to flee. He looked into Wendy's face and said bravely, "I understand."

For Peter had grown enough to realize that what Wendy was talking about was **his** choice. If things went back to normal, if he became a boy again, she would have to go.

____________________

**Author's Note: **Next time, more mushy stuff. We've gotten into the more romantic part of the story, after all.


	11. Thimbles

And so more time passed, with Peter sleeping each evening upon his narrow pallet while Wendy slept in his large bed. Occasionally, he would wake during the night and lean silently against the edge of the bed-hollow, watching Wendy in her slumber. Her eyes often moved behind her eyelids, and her lips were often slightly parted. In the moonlight, her skin looked like the velvety pearls Peter sometimes found within the creatures in Neverland's ocean. He was oft tempted to reach out to stroke her cheek as she slept, but he kept himself back. He was not sure why.

Tinkerbell had taken a strange liking to Wendy, as well, and frequently kept her company on her various solitary walks. Peter was uncertain why Tink had brought Wendy back to him, but he could not find it within himself to wish that things had happened otherwise. Having Wendy here, and having her all to himself, with no Lost Boys demanding her attention, was like his best dream come true.

He knew it could not last. Of course it could not last. For Peter did not want to grow up, and so Wendy frequently spoke to him of what had happened and wondered why. She asked him many questions, but Peter did not like to talk about it. He knew that when they had solved this problem, when he was finally a boy again, Wendy would leave him ... and though Peter did not want to become a man, he also did not want her to leave.

From what she kept saying to him, Wendy seemed convinced that Peter's problems were her own fault, that she had ... broken him ... or some such ... when she gave him her thimble on the deck of the Jolly Roger. She now called it a "kiss", which caused Peter some confusion, but he eventually simply accepted that a kiss could mean many different things. Wendy had tried to explain kissing to him more clearly, but she had grown so very red that Peter had quite feared that she might make herself ill. He had assured her that he understood and that she need make no further efforts, but in truth he still found himself somewhat puzzled. Why would she have called a "kiss" a "thimble"? It made little sense to him. Peter had only one word for most things, and that made life simple. Wendy's life seemed considerably more complicated.

When Wendy went for walks with Tinkerbell, Peter would sometimes secretly follow her to make sure that she was safe. He often saw her sit on the large roots at the base of the fairies' hollow tree, leaning her cheek upon her hand as if she were waiting for someone. But no one ever came.

One time at the base of the fairy tree, she spoke to Tinkerbell when Peter was close enough to hear her, and he hoped he would learn why she so often chose this place to sit and wait. Indeed, he did not wait long before he had his answer.

"I do wish the fairies would speak with me again, Tink, for I truly do not know how to help Peter. I wish I did. I owe it to him, if I have caused all this with my ... with my kiss."

Wendy bent her face into her hands and whimpered, "I have caused so much trouble! I should never have kissed him."

Peter nearly gasped from his hiding place, but clapped his hand over his mouth before the sound could escape. Wendy wished she had never kissed him? Would she take back her thimble if she could? The thought caused an ache in Peter's chest that nothing could lessen. The "feelings", it seemed, happened whether he liked them or not. And this one he did **not** like. It hurt almost as much as being run through with a sword, and that was something Peter knew all too well.

While Peter had been lost in sad thought, Wendy had looked up again toward Tinkerbell, who had apparently said something to her in response. Wendy nodded and said, "The King and Queen told me. They said that Peter had been an innocent boy, that he had never kissed anyone, nor been kissed. They said that my kiss started all this, because it caused Peter to change, that he was no longer only a boy."

She was, of course, slightly overstating the fairies' words, and yet her interpretation was not entirely wrong. After all, fairies do have rather a talent for communicating more than their words might seem to say. Perhaps Wendy had understood them better than we, who is to know?

In his hiding place, Peter touched his lips as he watched Wendy's beautiful face in the distance. Her thimble had changed him? Was that why he had begun growing up?

Wendy was talking again, holding up a hand to count upon her fingers. "I know only three things," she told Tinkerbell. "One, that Peter is growing. Two, that the fairies tell me that my kiss changed him. And three, that the fairies also said that Neverland is changing because Peter has lost his joy." She frowned in thought. "If Peter has lost his joy **because** he is growing, then it truly is all my fault. All because of my kiss!"

"Tinkerbell," she said plaintively, "do tell me that I am wrong. I have been hoping so that I might speak to the fairies again, that they might tell me what I am to do to help Peter, but they do not come." She bowed her head a moment before adding softly, "And I grow so afraid for Peter."

Afraid for him? Why? Because he was growing? Well, that was not so bad as being held in Captain Hook's manacles and being forced to listen to his ridiculous songs, and she had saved him from **that**, hadn't she? And, anyway, Peter was perfectly capable of saving himself and needed no help from anyone.

But even as that thought passed his mind, the more grown-up part of Peter reluctantly acknowledged that it was incorrect. He **did** need someone. He needed Wendy. He had many "feelings" he did not understand, but he did know that he needed Wendy.

* * *

That evening, Peter was lying upon his pallet playing his pipes to amuse himself. He had not played his pipes in so very long a time that he barely remembered when it might have been, but today they had called to him and so he played a tune upon them. He would normally have lain upon his bed, but that space had become Wendy's domain, and he would not trespass. Otherwise, he might prove himself not a "gentleman," and, for some reason he could not fully explain, he did not want for that to happen.

Wendy had gone up to the look-out platform, for Peter was well aware that it was her favorite place. She often sat up there for long hours, while Peter drove himself nearly to distraction waiting for her to come back down. Everything now seemed to revolve around Wendy, around her presence. He missed her when she was not there, and was happy when she returned. He knew that these were the "feelings" of which Wendy had spoken before, but she never spoke of them now, as if she feared offending him. In some respects, this was a relief ... but there was also a part of Peter that longed to talk with Wendy of what had been happening inside him. He was sure she would understand it better than he.

"Peter?" Wendy called softly from the bottom of the rung ladder. She had climbed down while Peter was playing his pipes, and he had not heard her. Lucky for him she was not an Indian or a pirate!

"What is it, Wendy?" Peter asked, but Wendy pressed a finger to her lips and grinned. Pointing up the ladder, she whispered, "Come look!"

Wendy's smile would have been enough to tempt him, but a shared secret was even more seductive. Peter followed her up the ladder to sit beside her on the look-out.

The area surrounding their tree seemed quite filled with the lights of fairies. Peter smiled, for he did still enjoy the fairies' beauty, even if they rarely spoke with him anymore.

"Look," Wendy whispered into his ear, pointing. But Peter was momentarily paralyzed by the feeling of her breath in his ear. Why that should affect him so, he could not explain, but it had sent a shiver down his back. Not a bad shiver, but a good one. In truth, he wasn't sure he'd ever **felt** such a good shiver before.

Lost in the sensations of his own body, Peter blindly turned to look where Wendy had pointed. She had pressed herself against his side to whisper to him, and had not moved away afterward, and that too was a continuing distraction. When he felt somewhat more himself, Peter gathered enough composure to see what Wendy had been wanting him to see.

It was a cavalcade of the fairy court, slowly flying past in stately array, lesser fairies circling them in excited spirals. It would seem that the large number of fairies scattered all about this tree and others nearby were watching the procession just as Peter and Wendy were doing.

When Wendy took his hand, Peter turned to look at her. Her face was so near in the moonlight, so beautiful. He smiled shyly at her, and she smiled back. He squeezed her hand gently with his own, and they returned to watching the fairy procession.

"Is it a wedding?" Wendy whispered into his ear, sending yet another shiver down his spine. He could grow to like those shivers, with very **very** little effort.

Peter turned Wendy's face gently with his free hand so that he might whisper into her ear. "I don't know," he admitted. Wendy's hand squeezed his quickly, and Peter wondered if he'd sent a shiver down Wendy's spine as she did to him. He tilted his head to peer at her face, but Wendy seemed to be purposely turned away from him.

Lifting his free hand again to Wendy's cheek, he turned her face toward him once more, doing nothing but look into her eyes for a long moment.

"Is it all still only make-believe, Peter? You and me?" her voice was hushed in the moonlit darkness, but Peter thought he could still almost feel it inside his own chest.

His hand still gently holding Wendy's cheek, Peter whispered to her, "You said we have only a short time together like this. We shouldn't spend it worrying, right?" and his smile quirked just a bit more impish on that last word.

Wendy nodded with an answering smile of her own, never able to resist his charm. She just smiled at him in silence for a long moment, looking into his eyes without shyness for perhaps the first time since she had arrived back in Neverland. And suddenly Peter felt something in his heart that he did not like. Something remarkably like guilt.

"I'm sorry, Wendy," he whispered, so close to her face that she could surely feel his breath against her skin. "I'm sorry I said it was all your fault. I'm sorry I said such horrid things about you. I was wrong."

Wendy looked shocked at his apology, leaving Peter to wonder if he had done it incorrectly. He did, after all, have very little experience with apologizing. But then Wendy leaned slowly forward, her eyes falling closed, and Peter took this as a sign that all was well, for he now recognized this as her thimble face.

Strangely, Wendy did not close the distance to bring her lips against his. She simply waited, eyes closed, so very close to his face, so very tempting. It was rather puzzling to Peter. Why did she not give him her thimble, or kiss, or whatever she was calling it today? But after only a moment of such questioning, Peter simply closed his eyes and leaned forward that last tiny amount.

Their lips met this time in the softest of embraces, a gentle exploration that filled Peter's heart with something he could not name. How could the touching of their lips make him feel something within his heart? It was all very puzzling, but Peter did not puzzle about it now. Now he was far too busy being overwhelmed by the sheer Wendyness of Wendy. He let go of her hand, only so that he could hold her face on both sides, his fingers running through her silky thick hair. So many sensations at the same time, Peter felt as if he might burst, or vanish, or something else he could not even imagine.

He had kissed Wendy with great passion when he had been angry, but this was his first time truly kissing her when he was not. He had tasted her mouth, felt the texture of her tongue against his, felt her fingers against the nape of his neck, but it had all been tainted by his anger. Now, it was pure. And it was joyous. And it was, though Peter may not have wanted to admit it, most certainly love.

Peter felt as if he wanted to pull Wendy so close to him that she would become a part of his own body, and then she would never never leave him ever again. This was better than any adventure he had ever had. Better than any fight with Hook. Better than talking to mermaids or dancing with fairies or hunting with Indians. Better, even, than flying.

He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to go on kissing Wendy forever.

When Wendy gently disengaged herself from his kiss, Peter found that he followed her with his lips a moment before realizing he should stop. Looking quickly into her eyes, he blushed, but did not look away. She seemed uncertain, as if she did not realize how she had made him feel, and Peter found himself wanting to reassure her.

"I guess," Peter leaned forward to whisper into her hair, "I guess 'feelings' aren't so bad after all."

When he pulled away to look into her eyes to see if he had said the right thing, her smile nearly blinded him. "Oh, Peter!" she whispered, and then hugged him tightly, with her face against the side of his neck. Peter held her in his arms and watched the fairies float past and wished that this would never have to end.

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**Author's Note:** Only two or three more chapters to go!


	12. Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:** Well, this chapter ended up a bit longer than I'd planned, and so there will probably be another 3-4 chapters after this one. I keep underestimating how much detail I write. :)

Thanks again to all who have reviewed. I've been writing this story very quickly, partially due to the encouragement I've been getting from my readers. So, once again, thank you! I'm really glad people have been enjoying what I write.

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Later that night, when Peter's breathing had become smooth and even and Wendy was certain that he was asleep, she silently crept from her bed to tiptoe past his pallet. Luckily, he still slept as soundly as he had when only a boy, and so he had no idea that she had snuck from the tree. If he had, of course, he would have followed her. But tonight Wendy walked the forest alone.

Wendy had found herself lying awake, staring at the ceiling of her bed in the tree, holding these moments with Peter so very close to her heart that she began to fear that if she stayed too long in Neverland, she would not be able to bring herself to leave. She had loved Peter Pan as a young boy, but the young man stirred feelings within her that were even stronger and more difficult to ignore.

_If I do not help him and leave soon,_ she thought as she walked through the dark forest, _I fear I shall stay here forever, whether Peter is boy or man, whether he wants me here or no._

She walked briskly toward the Mermaids' Lagoon, clutching one of Peter's small daggers in her right hand, lest she meet any trouble in the night. And, in any case, Peter had warned her that the mermaids themselves were quite dangerous.

When she arrived at the lagoon, Wendy crouched upon the rocks that touched the lapping waves. _No one else has been able to help, and the fairies seem to have abandoned me,_ Wendy thought to herself. _I am willing to try anything if it might help Peter. Even asking the mermaids._

But then Wendy found herself rather at a loss, for on her previous visit Peter had called the mermaids by playing his pipes. Wendy had no pipes, and even if she had, she would not have known how to play them. But perhaps the mermaids might come to her singing?

And so Wendy leaned over the water and began to sing in a beautiful, clear voice:

_Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,  
I heard a maid singing in the valley below;  
"O don't deceive me,  
O never leave me!  
How could you use a poor maiden so?"_

_"O gay is the garland, fresh are the roses  
I've culled from the garden to bind on thy brow.  
O don't deceive me,  
O never leave me!  
How could you use a poor maiden so?"*_

She had only sung the first two verses before she saw sleek heads bob to the surface some distance away. It had worked! Four mermaids swam toward her, their eyes dark and full of mystery. Wendy gulped nervously and prayed that she had made the right decision in coming here. Surely they could help her? Peter had said they always knew what was happening in Neverland, so surely they **must** know how she might help him!

When the mermaids drew close, stroking their hands sensuously up the rock, their eyes called to hers as though these fey creatures were the ones now singing, though no noise was made.

Remembering her previous visit and how close she had come to being pulled beneath the waves, Wendy attempted to keep her distance, though doing so was difficult.

"How might I help Peter?" Wendy asked the mermaids softly. "Please, do you know how I might help him?"

Unfortunately, Wendy had been so hypnotized by the mermaid's stare on her previous visit that she had not noticed the sound of Peter's talking with them. They did not, after all, speak as young English ladies do. Rather, they responded to her question with an overlapping cacophony of gutteral clicks and squeaks.

Sure that they had the answer, and that she could not decipher it, Wendy once again found tears springing to her eyes. She dashed them away with her free hand, angry that she had found herself so prone to crying since she had arrived here. It was all just so vexing!

"Please," Wendy asked once more, "I cannot understand you."

At that, one of the mermaids slid her arm further up the rock toward Wendy's foot, as though Wendy might better understand if she were beneath the waves where the mermaids lived their hidden lives. But Wendy backed away quickly, now standing up, and reconciled herself to the fact that the mermaids could not help her as long as she did not know their language. And since it did not seem a particularly easy language to learn, given that it apparently had no **words**, Wendy found herself quite losing hope.

On her walk back to the tree, Wendy found herself still softly singing the song she had used to call the mermaids, attempting to cheer herself.

_Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,  
I heard a maid singing in the valley below;  
"O don't deceive me,  
O never leave me!  
How could you use a poor maiden so?"_

Suddenly, she came to a stop. The song sounded so similar to her own life, and Peter's. She had deceived him when she hid her identity, and she had left him to return home after her first time in Neverland ... and, in fact, planned to soon leave him again. Furrowing her brow in thought, Wendy found herself of a sudden trying to imagine how Peter felt about all of this, and she felt herself ashamed. She must have hurt him so! How could he still trust her? She resolved then and there that she must apologize to him. After all, he had apologized to her, and she knew how proud he was. To make such a concession must have been difficult for him indeed! She could certainly show him the same respect.

Wendy continued walking, no longer finding her song even remotely comforting. Her visit to the mermaids had been a great disappointment. If she did not learn how to help Peter soon, she feared her heart might be lost forever.

But then some dark, selfish corner of her heart whispered to her. _Would it be so very bad,_ she thought to herself, _if we were never to find a way to make Peter a boy again? Would it be so very bad if he were to stay a man ... with me?_

The thought was delicious ... and yet Wendy was woman enough to realize when she was being false with herself. Ashamed once more, Wendy frowned and shook her head lightly. _Yes, it would be so very bad,_ she reminded herself, _for Peter so hates to grow up that he has lost all his joy, and it is destroying his Neverland._

For Wendy had begun to think that Peter's exile from the Indians, mermaids, and fairies stemmed from his lack of joy. Just as his moods might control Neverland's weather, his utter loss of happiness seemed to have shifted the very social world of those around him. He was no longer welcomed by his own dear Neverland, and that simply **must** be remedied, particularly as it had been caused by her own kiss.

Wendy was abruptly jolted out of her thoughts by a hand clasping over her mouth at the same time as a strong arm grabbed her about the middle and pulled her back against a man's body. "Sweet Wendy," Hook purred into her ear, his lips close to her skin sending a shudder of revulsion through her. He rubbed his cheek against her silken hair, and Wendy gritted her teeth. He had grabbed her so quickly that her dagger had been knocked from her hand and now lay, useless, upon the mossy forest floor.

"My dear, **dear** sweet Wendy, how lovely to meet you in this romantic spot," and he gestured at the small clearing in which he had grabbed her, the stars bright above their heads.

Wendy's thoughts spun so quickly through her mind that she almost could not grasp any of them long enough to make a plan. What could she do? How could she escape with no weapon?

"We were interrupted in my quarters," Hook said with a smile. "How pleasant that Pan is not here to interfere with us tonight." Struggling was getting her nowhere, for Hook was far too strong. Remembering Hook's treatment of her aboard the Jolly Roger, Wendy blanched. Was there no other way? Grimacing subtly, Wendy closed her eyes, steeled herself, and lightly licked Hook's hand.

Hook immediately turned her within his arms, his hand releasing her mouth, and he gazed down into her face with one eyebrow raised. "Sweet Wendy has grown up," he smirked. "Shall we see what else you can do with that tongue of yours, my dear?" His arms were like metal bands around her, holding her firmly in place such that she could get no leverage. If he kissed her, she could bite him ... and if he was surprised perhaps she could escape. Though she had grown up a bit, she could still run quite fast, certainly far faster than Captain Hook.

But Wendy was not to find it necessary to go to such measures, for before Hook's lips could touch hers, Tinkerbell flew between them, bracing her back against Wendy's nose, and her feet against Hook's. She strained with the effort of keeping their faces apart, and then suddenly found herself freed ... as Hook dropped limply to the forest floor.

Wendy stared in confusion at Hook, then looked up to where Peter stood behind him. Peter's face was grim, and there was blood on his sword. Looking down at Hook once more, Wendy noticed a dark stain seeping across his ruffled white shirt. Had Peter killed him?

"He's not dead," Peter said flatly. His voice showed no emotion whatsoever. "The pirates will come for him and take him back to his ship. You need not worry for him." Then Peter's chin went up another inch and he added, "Unless you wish to go **with** him to tend his wounds, as he is so dear to you."

Wendy's jaw dropped, her eyes wide. "Dear to me? Go with him? Peter, what are you talking about?"

Peter was silent a long moment, and Wendy saw the muscle twitch in his cheek once more, a sure sign that he was very very angry. But Peter's voice was still flat and cold when he said, "You seem so eager to kiss him. Twice now I have stopped you. You even find it necessary to leave me in my bed so that you might come to him in the night!"

Wendy could not believe what she was hearing. Did Peter truly believe that she ... had some sort of feelings for Captain Hook? It was ludicrous!

"That's ridiculous!" she insisted. "I have no interest in Captain Hook, Peter, whatever you might believe."

And, at that, Peter's control broke. "I heard you!" he shouted. "I heard him say that you came here to meet him! He talked about ... about..." Peter's face grew very grim once more, as if he did not know how to deal with this emotions and therefore tried to suppress them entirely. "I heard him talk about your tongue, that he had felt it, Wendy." And though he had tried to supress it, their was pain in his voice, for he was remembering the kisses he and Wendy had shared, and now wondering whether they had meant anything to her at all.

Wendy blushed a deep pink. Perhaps her strategy of surprising Hook had not been the best one. But she had not known what else to do! She opened her mouth to explain, but Peter had turned away and begun walking back toward the tree house. She glanced down at Hook, who lay on the ground panting, and then ran after Peter as fast as she could.

She found him back inside their tree. He was lying in the large bed that he had previously given to her, and when he heard her enter he spoke without turning around. "You can sleep on the other bed tonight."

Wendy's eyes widened once more in surprise. "Peter, I can explain..."

His back still turned to her, quite effectively hiding his hurt under a mask of anger, Peter said coldly, "I don't care about your explanations. I just want to find out how to be a boy again so that all of this will go away."

Wendy nodded, though Peter could not see it, and then lay upon the narrow pallet. The small bed was really quite hard and uncomfortable, and she felt a pang of guilt for having made Peter sleep here so often instead of in his own bed.

Before she fell asleep, Wendy resolved to seek out the fairies again tomorrow, for this situation just seemed to grow more and more complicated, and she suddenly found herself wishing that she could just go home where everything made sense.

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**Author's Footnote**

* "Early One Morning" is a traditional English folk song which would have been quite familiar in the Victorian era.


	13. Answers and Questions

**Author's Note:** Many chuckling thanks to Sarah, who decided that my poor little story needed more reviews to encourage new readers, and so wrote 12 reviews in a row. I very much appreciate both the thought and the effort. :)

You know, I've been writing this story very quickly, and one reason for that is because I've decided not to read anyone else's fanfics until I've finished with mine, so that I won't get influenced by other writing styles or other visions of the characters. But it's soooooooo hard to resist reading the newest chapters of Anthy2's "Changing Toward Love," or Squeezynz's "All Because of a Thimble," or Isabelle's "My Brave Wendy," or Rain and Leaves' "Neverland," or Neverland01's "I Didn't Forget," or any of the other good fics out there. I'm going through withdrawals, I tell you! I must write quickly, so I can start reading again when I'm done. Wish me luck!

Warning: Peter and Wendy don't act very mature in this chapter ... but they're teenagers, not old wise people. I've tried to keep their ages (17/18) in mind throughout. Not to mention the fact that Peter has had almost no adult influence.

Without further ado, may I present ... the story!

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When Wendy woke the next morning, her every muscle ached from sleeping upon such a hard surface. She sat up with some difficulty upon the pallet and eyed it with visible dislike. Peter sat in a chair as far from her as possible, pointedly ignoring her as she made some attempt to comb her hair and straighten her clothing.

Several moments had passed in silence when Wendy decided to simply leave. She wished to bathe, anyway, and then she planned to sit at the base of the fairy tree as long as necessary -- for **days** even -- until they would speak to her again, for she truly and absolutely **must** speak to them.

Unfortunately, Peter had only so much self-control, and when he saw her walking toward the door, he found he could not restrain himself from asking in quite a rude manner, "Where are you going?"

Wendy was, truth be told, no more polite in her response. "Why do you care?"

Peter scowled. "I don't."

Nose in the air, facing purposely away from him, Wendy responded, "Then why did you ask?" in a nonchalant tone that said she did not care for his answer, when in truth she did, very much.

"Well, it is my house ..." Peter responded.

Wendy raised an eyebrow, glancing over her shoulder at him. "So?"

Were all women so frustratingly contrary, or was it only the young ones? Peter found his temper slipping rather badly. He shouted, "So just get out!"

Wendy cast back, "Fine! Do you plan to sneak around spying on me again today?"

Peter's mouth dropped open with offended surprise. "I wasn't spying on you! I was trying to keep you safe!"

Smiling in a rather patronizing manner, Wendy responded as if she were a schoolmistress speaking to a very small and wayward child, "You know very well that it amounts to the same thing, Peter. You were following me without my knowing."

"Fine! I won't follow you and I won't rescue you anymore, and you can go kiss Hook all day long!" Peter cried, meaning not a single word of it, of course.

And here I am sad to report that Wendy went quite beyond the bounds of ladylike behavior and taunted Peter by saying, "Well, at least **he** knows how to behave like a gentleman."

It was childish of her to throw such an accusation, and it stung Peter sharply, for he had already been feeling considerable guilt that he had banished Wendy to the pallet the previous night. He feared very much that he had proved himself no gentleman, though he was not certain why that thought displeased him so, and to hear it from Wendy's own lips was harsh indeed. He now found himself feeling simultaneously unfairly chastised, fairly guilty, rather resentful, and quite out of control of the situation. It was all simply too much for him.

Peter threw himself out of his chair, stomped across the floor, and then climbed into the bed once more, where he could turn his back on Wendy most effectively. Over his shoulder, he spat viciously, "I can't wait until I'm a boy again and you can just leave and never come back!"

Wendy gasped. She'd known that what he said was true on some level, but still it was so unkind! "What a perfectly horrid boy you are!" she replied. "I came here to help you, and you don't even care. I might as well have stayed home!"

Her hand was on the door when Peter found that he could not restrain himself from getting in one more jab. Without even turning to look at her, he asked archly, "Going to check on Hook's injury?"

Wendy fumed silently for a moment, endeavoring to bring her temper under control, but there was nothing for it. The words would be spoken. She fairly screamed at Peter, "I don't care a fig about Hook, you complete moron! It must mean that I am utterly insane, but I have the **extreme **misfortune to be in love with **you**!" At which point she fled in tears.

Peter rolled over in the bed to look at the now empty doorway. He felt rather as if he had been slapped, though whether with something good or bad he was not sure.

"In love?"

* * *

Peter, of course, **did** follow Wendy, for two reasons. The primary reason, without a doubt, was that he still feared for her safety and wished to protect her. But his second, less noble reason was that he wished to see if she truly was going to meet Captain Hook. His jealousy had spun quite out of control, particularly after Wendy's barbed comments back in the tree.

And so Peter once again guarded Wendy while she bathed, all without her knowledge, and indeed she would have been most **dreadfully** embarrassed and offended had she known he was there. Particularly if she had known how frequently he had been there and how much he had seen. But today Peter's enjoyment of watching her bathe was severely muted by their fight.

In fact, Peter would have felt more comfortable if he and Wendy had opted to simply fight with swords until they had determined a winner, and be done with the argument completely thus. He found that fighting with Wendy, however, was not so simple, and therefore far more frustrating.

After her bath, Wendy walked through the forest to the fairies' hollow tree, where she once again -- as she had so often before -- sat upon a root and leaned her cheek upon her hand. In short, she waited. Peter waited, as well, high up in a neighboring tree.

Tinkerbell arrived after a brief while, stopping first to greet Peter, who grimaced and made frantic gestures implying that she should pretend he was not there. Tink grinned a sly grin and nodded, then flew down to Wendy.

Wendy nodded at something Tinkerbell had said, and Peter cursed the quietness of fairy speech that kept him from hearing both sides of the conversation.

"Yes, you are quite right," Wendy told Tinkerbell. "He truly is quite horrid." What? Tinkerbell had said he was "horrid"?

"I don't understand why Peter would think I might **want** to meet with him." Oh! She meant Hook! Did that mean that Wendy truly did **not** want to meet with the pirate?

Wendy sat for some time without speaking, then said softly, "Peter just wants for me to leave. I came all this way to help him, and he wants me to leave."

Again a long silence, or perhaps Tinkerbell was talking to her. From this distance, Peter could not tell.

"Yes, I will miss Neverland," Wendy told Tink quietly, "but there are fine things in my world, as well."

A brief moment, in which Tinkerbell apparently asked a question, and then Wendy explained in a soft voice, as if she were attempting to convince herself that leaving Peter was worthwhile. "Well, the world outside is much larger than Neverland, you see, and filled with so many different kinds of adventures. In Neverland, well ... everything stays pretty much the same. But the world outside is always changing ... there is always some new excitement. New things to learn or see or do. Like ... like ... bicycles! They are the most cunning contraption, made of wheels and gears and I do not understand all, but they are quite stylish these days."

Wendy was smiling now, lost in thought of wonders she could share with Tink ... and, though she did not know, with Peter. "There is horseback riding, which I adore. And in the winter there are sleigh rides and sledding and ice-skating! There is music, so very many different kinds of music, and so many different kinds of dancing. And there are museums simply filled with beautiful objects and paintings."

"And, in the world outside Neverland, there are a great many different countries, all with their different languages and cultures and people. There are the Eskimo, who live in houses made entirely of ice! And the Hawaiians, who wear skirts made of grass and ride the ocean on boards made of wood! And in China they have built a giant wall that is so very many miles long that I should be quite overwhelmed to get to see it! And in Africa, there are elephants and lions and tigers and native tribes with strange customs such as standing on one leg. In America, there are cowboys and wild horses and herds of buffalo. And in Paris, they have built a tower so tall that it reaches almost to the sky!"

Tinkerbell seemed to have many comments on this, as Wendy had paused frequently to nod and smile. Now Wendy fell quiet for a time, again waiting patiently for Peter-knew-not-what, and most likely also lost in thought.

And then she spoke again, and Peter leaned to be sure he could hear, for she always had been a wonderful storyteller. "But there are also many other kinds of adventures," Wendy said more quietly. "I wish to learn all manner of wonderful things, and there is only so much to be learnt in Neverland, you know. I wish to learn languages and how to ride a bicycle and how to paint and ever so many different things. There are so many challenges I wish to face!"

"And," she continued more slowly, so softly that Peter could only barely hear her, "I wish to find love..." Peter blinked. _But hadn't she said...?_ "I wish to find love," she repeated, "with someone who loves me in return, and I wish to raise our children to face the world bravely and with eager anticipation for all of life's adventures. That, to me, seems the greatest adventure I could possibly imagine."

This had all given Peter a great deal to think about, for he had never realized so many adventures might lie outside Neverland. He did question whether Wendy had merely been telling a story, whether what she said was true or merely a fabrication, but it still warranted thought, for it was quite an interesting idea.

And it was most felicitous that Peter had something to think on, for Wendy then proceeded to sit patiently at the foot of the fairies' tree for a period of several hours. She sometimes sang songs or spoke with Tinkerbell -- who occasionally flew away and later returned, for fairies' attention spans are so very very tiny -- but much of the time Wendy simply sat and thought.

When the forest had grown quite dark and the time had passed when Wendy usually fell asleep in their tree, Peter became concerned that she was not moving. He could no longer see her face well in the darkness, but whenever Tink arrived, she would speak with a very awake Wendy -- her face visible in Tink's light -- before flying away again.

Why was Wendy staying there so very long? Peter found himself grown quite impatient and grumpy that she had kept him here all day, conveniently forgetting that in fact she did not know he was here and would not have been pleased had she known.

Peter became increasingly worried that someone -- someone such as Hook, for example -- might kidnap Wendy right from under his nose, because he was too far away to guard her effectively, and so he silently flew to a place near the base of the fairy tree, just out of her sight ... and then he peered around the tree's trunk to watch her. Only moments later, Peter was glad he had done so, for he saw Wendy's head drop in a way that could only mean she had fallen asleep in the middle of the dark forest. Was she so afraid to come back to their tree home that she would prefer to sleep alone in the forest? Was she staying here to avoid him? He had to admit he had said some terrible things to her, and that she might have good reason to not wish to see him. But to put herself in danger like this!

But Peter's thoughts were interrupted by a slowly growing cloud of fairies surrounding Wendy's head and body. He did not realize that his own face was illuminated by their glow and now might easily be seen if Wendy chose to turn her head but a little. Luckily, she did not, for Wendy still slept, unaware of her newly-arrived company.

Something -- perhaps the light of the fairies, or perhaps the soft sounds of their talking to each other -- woke Wendy, her head jerking upright, a red mark on her cheek where it had been leaning against her hand. Wondering briefly if she were still dreaming, Wendy reached out a tentative finger, only to have a fairy land upon it with tiny, nearly weightless feet. The sensation was subtle, but it was there. This was no dream.

Looking about, Wendy sought the Fairy King and Queen, but did not see them. Biting her lip in disappointment, she asked gently, "Might I ask you all a question?" But the fairies seemed not to want to speak, for they looked away from her. They then parted, forming a path to Wendy, and the Fairy King and Queen appeared, flying toward her in stately grace. The Fairy Queen glanced to the side with a slight smile, sighting Peter in his hiding place, and he smiled in response. Wendy, of course, saw none of this exchange.

The Fairy King moved forward slightly and asked, "You have waited long in this place, in hopes of speaking with us, child. What questions have you to ask?"

Wendy thought briefly, to make sure she worded this correctly, and then replied, "I have only one question, but it is so very important. How might I help Peter? What can I do?"

This time it was the Queen who spoke. "You can do nothing, child. It is Pan who must decide." Listening to this, Peter thought to himself, _Decide? Decide what?_

"Decide?" asked Wendy. "Decide what?"

The Fairy Queen explained in her beautiful bell-like voice, "On the day of his first kiss, Pan experienced not only the joy of love, but also the fear of its loss. These emotions set him along a certain path, a path that leads to joys not known by children." Peter in his hiding place wondered briefly what those joys might be, but could not ask.

Wendy opened her mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again when the Fairy King began to speak, "You have endured much to help Pan, you have shown us due respect, and you have brought a joy back to this land which had long been absent. Your heart is true, young lady. Your heart is true."

"And so we shall help you," continued the Queen. "Peter must choose. If he continues on the path he now travels, he shall continue to grow into a man, and find all the joys that manhood brings. He shall love and make love and grow to wisdom."

"Or," interjected the King, "he can return to his former self, become once more a boy, forever to live the joys that boyhood brings. He shall remain ever heartless and carefree."

Wendy nodded once, for she knew quite well what Peter wanted. "How can we make him a boy again? For that is so very much what he wants."

The Queen simply smiled. Wendy looked from her to the Fairy King, but neither of them spoke.

"How can we make him a boy again? I know that is what he will choose." Wendy's entire reason for returning to Neverland was so close to being resolved, she could nearly touch it.

The Fairy Queen glanced again to one side, smiling gently at Peter, and then turned to Wendy to say, "If Pan wants to be a boy, he needs only wish it."

Wendy tilted her head in confusion. "Wish it?"

The Queen once again smiled patiently. "Yes, wish it. He needs only wish it with his whole heart, and he shall be a boy again. He will return to the time before your kiss, before ever you came to Neverland, and he will remember naught. When your memory is erased from his mind, he shall once again be innocent, once again merely a boy."

And, just as the first time she had spoken with them, Wendy found that the Fairy Court had vanished before she had time to thank them. She stayed seated upon the tree root for several long moments, thinking with considerable sadness of the adventures she had enjoyed with Peter, and which he would no longer remember. She thought of the times when they had kissed, and was glad that she, at least, would not forget.

She would go back to the tree to tell him what the fairies had said, and then she would leave Neverland to return home, for all might be spoilt if he saw her after making his wish.

While Wendy was thinking thus, Peter, for his part, was also deep in thought. So very many different thoughts, in fact. First was the thought that the fairies had chosen to allow him to understand their speech. They had wanted him to know what they were saying, and this was a great honor which they had not afforded him in a very long time. He was not sure why they had done it, but he was grateful.

Second was the humbling realization that each of the many times he had seen Wendy sitting upon this tree's roots, she had been trying to help him. He remembered with great shame the words he had said to her this morning, after which she had still spent so many hours trying to come to his aid.

And third was confusion, for Peter had often wished to become a boy again, but it had not happened. Had he not wished with his whole heart? Was it truly necessary to forget Wendy's thimble? Was it possible? He needed to puzzle through all that the fairies had said before he could take action.

One thing was certain, however. They had the answer to the riddle. Now they needed only to make it real.

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**Author's Other Note:** Yep, that's the beginning of the end. We've got some of our answers out in the open now and it's just a matter of wrapping things up.

I'm terrible at guessing such things, but I'm currently predicting 3-4 more chapters. I know I've said that before, but this time I mean it. :)

Well, except that the story may run to 5 chapters if I do an entire Chapter O' Sex. Tastefully described, of course, but sex nonetheless. Depending on how that turns out, I may need to change the story's rating to R, just to be cautious.

Reader opinion on this subject is welcome, of course. Would you prefer to see an entire chapter devoted to Peter and Wendy's lovemaking, or would you prefer to have any sex kept brief and vague? I don't have a good feel for the age range of people reading this story, so I'm somewhat torn.


	14. If You Wish It

**Author's Loooooooong Notes:** First of all, I've made my decision about sex in this story. I'm going to keep the description of lovemaking confined within the story's PG-13 rating, but still include quite a bit of description of Wendy and Peter's thoughts and emotions, as well as some rather euphemistic references to what they're doing. Given the fact that sexuality has been a force in this story throughout, writing a scene in the same style seems appropriate to me.

Thinking back to what **I** was reading when **I** was 13, I find myself rather unlimited in what I could include under this rating. But I'll still be careful, since not all 13 year olds are as curious about such things as I was. :)

Also, I'd like to briefly respond to a few reviews:

The Horse Lovers -- I'm sorry you don't like the "mushy bits," but there's a reason I listed "Romance" as one of the genres of this story. There is quite a bit of mushy stuff in the final few chapters of this story, so you may not want to read the rest if that makes you uncomfortable.

Mara Trinity Scully -- There's going to continue to be some back-and-forth on the Neverland vs. real world issue, but I have a plan, which has existed since I wrote the first chapter. I think no matter which way I go, some folks would be happy and others would not, so I'm just going to go with what makes sense to me, given the central issues of this particular story.

Wendy8 -- Your idea for writing two different versions of the climactic (ahem! no pun intended) love scene is a good one. I may very well do as you suggest; I haven't decided yet. I'll have to see how well it works for me when I sit down to actually write it all.

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That night, Wendy waited a very long time for Peter to return to the tree. It was unlike him to be gone the whole night through, and so Wendy found herself wondering if he was avoiding her because of their argument. It all seemed so unimportant now, now that she knew the answer to Peter's problems. She was quite excited to tell him what she had learned from the fairies, though a large part of her heart was weeping that she should be forgotten. She tried to ignore her sadness, for she would have all too long to indulge it, and kept a smile on her lips for Peter.

She had done what she had returned to do, after all. Was that not something to make one glad?

Wendy sat upon the look-out platform with her knees to her chest, waiting for Peter, until the first rays of dawn shone over the distant ocean. Her eyes were so very heavy by this time that Wendy reconciled herself to sleeping a short while until she could talk to Peter before returning home. The flight home, after all, would require some effort without Peter by her side, with only Tinkerbell to guide her.

And so she at last yielded to the pull of sleep, laying herself down upon the narrow pallet to rest just a brief while until Peter returned.

When Peter did return, however, he found Wendy quite deeply asleep, for her day and night's vigil at the fairy tree had tired her more than she realized. Gently taking Wendy into his arms, Peter carried her to the larger bed and settled her comfortably upon the furs. Wendy moved only to murmur his name before sinking deep into slumber once more.

Peter had spent the night high in a tree, gazing out at Neverland and thinking of all that he had heard that day. It was all so very confusing. He had many questions, and not only about what the fairies had said. Wendy's behavior had seemed to make little sense, and he longed to ask her many things, so that he might understand. Unfortunately, he could not ask about the fairies, since Wendy did not know that he had followed her.

While Wendy slept, Peter sat in one of the wood and fur chairs and watched her, thinking all the while. He decided that when she woke, he would ask her his questions quickly, before they might begin yet another row. He hoped that he would not anger her with his confusions, but he had grown impatient with being a "gentleman". He wanted to understand what had been happening to him, and he wanted to understand it **now**, for Peter still had much of a young lad's impatience with the world.

At length, Wendy began to stir and stretch, rubbing her eyes and pushing her hair away from her face. She saw Peter almost immediately, and leapt from her sleeping place to run toward him in his chair. She still had marks upon her face from where the blankets and furs had met beneath her cheek.

"Peter!" she cried, kneeling before his chair. "Peter, I have the answer! I know how to make you young again!"

Nervous now that he might somehow betray the fact that he knew already what the fairies had advised, and thereby anger Wendy that he had followed her once again, Peter sat very very still, his eyes shifting away from her face with guilt.

But Wendy was entirely too occupied with the urgency of her news to notice Peter's oddly quiet behavior.

"I talked with the fairies last night," she explained, "and they told me that you need only wish with your whole heart, and you shall be a boy again. But you must wait until I have left Neverland, for I fear that if you saw me after you had made your wish, then all would be lost."

Peter sat up suddenly in his chair. "You are leaving Neverland? Why?"

"Oh, Peter," Wendy smiled gently, "you must forget that we ever met, if the wish is to work. Apparently your growing up has been my fault, and you must forget that I ever kissed you, or even knew you at all, if you are to return to being a boy."

Forget Wendy? The idea still offended Peter, but he was not certain what to say without incriminating himself. Perhaps changing the subject was safest. He did, after all, have a great many other questions to ask her.

"If you are to leave Neverland, Wendy, I would like to ask you some things before you go, for I have been very confused." Admitting it pained him a bit, for Peter did not like to appear weak in any way, but it seemed necessary if he was ever to get answers to his many questions.

"Of course, Peter," Wendy replied, smiling up at him from where she still crouched before him. Peter gently moved her away, and then lowered himself to the floor, so that they sat facing each other upon the dirt.

Peter worked up his courage and asked his first question. "Why were you with Hook in the forest two nights ago?" He was not sure he wanted to hear her answer, but he was grown-up enough to realize that he had given her no chance to explain, and that was quite unfair of him.

"Oh, Peter," Wendy's shoulders relaxed a bit, releasing a tension she had not even known that she was carrying. "I had gone to speak with the mermaids to ask if they knew of a way to help you become a boy again. They spoke to me, but I could not understand them. I walked home through the forest, but when I was lost in thought, Hook grabbed me and held me against my will, with his hand over my mouth. The rest, you heard and saw."

Peter nodded slowly, as if absorbing this information, then asked, "What thoughts had you so occupied?"

Wendy thought for a moment, and then remembered the song she had sung for the mermaids. She looked down at her hands in her lap and admitted, "I had been thinking that I owed you an apology for lying to you about being a Lost Boy, when first I arrived. And I **am** sorry, Peter. But Tinkerbell insisted it was necessary in order for me to help you. I would never have lied to you otherwise."

Gesturing vaguely, as if batting her concerns aside, Peter said, "It is no matter. I know now why Tink did it, and I do not blame you."

Wendy leaned over to hug Peter briefly in thanks, and then smiled at him. "I am so glad we are not fighting today, Peter."

This brought to Peter's mind his behavior of two nights past, causing a subtle wince which Wendy did not see. "I am sorry that we fought so, Wendy. I fear ... I made you sleep on the pallet ... and now I am not a 'gentleman'."

Wendy laughed lightly and shook her head. "Peter, I am no perfect lady, either. We both of us lost our tempers. But one angry moment does not make you a bad person."

"Am I still a 'gentleman', then?" asked Peter uncertainly.

"Yes, Peter. In my eyes, you are."

This made Peter smile. Wendy still thought he was a "gentleman"! And though he was not entirely sure what that meant, he knew it was a good thing. That was excellent, for he had other questions not so easy to ask, and the boost to his confidence was very welcome.

"Wendy, what does 'in love' mean?"

Wendy's eyes grew very very large and her face became pink. But Peter watched her so patiently and with such trust that she felt she should do her best to explain. He would not remember this conversation tomorrow, in any case.

"Love," she began hesitantly, "well, I love my parents and my brothers, of course. Love is when someone's happiness is important to you, when you want to do things that will please them and make them smile. Love means that you like to be with that person, and they make you feel good inside."

Peter nodded slowly again. This was all so much to take in. "So that is 'in love'?"

Wendy shook her head, clasping her hands in her lap more tightly in her embarrassed nervousness. She found herself stammering rather disjointedly, "'In love' is ... you see someone ... and your heart beats faster ... and you want to be near them ... to hold them and touch them ... you want to kiss them ... and ... and ... be with them always ... no matter where you go ... or what happens ... always."

Peter frowned in confusion. "That is 'in love'?" Wendy nodded. "But ... you said that you were 'in love' with me," Peter mused, then looked at Wendy again. "Why are you leaving Neverland if you want to be with me always?"

Wendy touched Peter's hand and explained softly, trying to keep her own emotions in check, "Because it is how you become a boy again, Peter, and I know how much you want that."

"Are you leaving because you have a ... a 'husband' ... at your home?"

Wendy's eyes became very large again, and her face became an even darker pink. "Peter, no. I do not have a husband." She paused, knowing she was not being entirely honest, and then continued. "Peter, it is difficult to explain. Things are different outside Neverland. My parents have been seeking a husband for me, and I most likely will marry."

At the word "marry", Peter's eyes shot up to meet hers. "Marry?" asked Peter. "So you will share some man's bed, when you would not share mine?"

Wendy bit her lip a long moment before responding, "Peter ... you see ... I **must** marry. My parents have made great sacrifices to provide me with a yearly income, and Aunt Millicent has settled a dowry upon me, and ... these are things intended to attract a desirable husband. A lady simply **must** marry, or find herself a spinster."

"What is a 'spinster'?"

"It is a lady who has never married and never had children of her own. A lady who lives alone, with no love to warm her heart," Wendy explained quietly, secretly wondering if indeed she would be able to marry, now that she had felt these feelings for Peter, or whether she herself would become a spinster.

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "So a 'spinster' is a bad thing."

Wendy frowned lightly and corrected, "No, not a **bad** thing, exactly. Perhaps more of a **sad** thing. I would not want to be a spinster, for I do long to have dear children of my own."

"Like the Lost Boys!" Peter interjected, glad that he knew about one thing in this terribly confusing conversation.

"Well, yes," admitted Wendy gently, "except that these would be truly my children. I will be their mother. The Lost Boys had other mothers whom they had forgotten, their **true** mothers. I was only their make-believe mother, Peter, just as you were their make-believe father. I will be my children's true mother, not make-believe, but truly, for always."

Always. That word kept cropping up, and it made Peter feel odd in his stomach. He thought he knew what it meant, for had he not said many times that he wanted always to be a boy and have fun? But when the word applied to Wendy, it seemed so different. For Wendy to be **always** not with him seemed a terrible thing. Perhaps the most terrible thing ever.

Wendy squeezed Peter's hand gently and smiled, trying desperately not to cry. "Peter, I should go, so that you can become a boy once more. Tinkerbell can lead me home. Come, kiss me upon my cheek and let us say good-bye."

Peter stiffened. She seemed so pleased to get away from him. He nodded sharply, "If you wish it."

Wendy touched his cheek softly, tears in her eyes, though they had not fallen. "No, Peter. This is about what **you** wish. And you shall have your wish at last."

"Then I wish for you to stay!" Peter cried petulantly.

The tears in Wendy's eyes spilled over. "Peter, I can't. If I do, then you would continue to grow up. For your wish to work, I **must** leave."

Shaking his head impatiently, Peter said, "You once told me ... I said I wanted always to be a boy ... and you said ... you said it was my biggest pretend." Tears now were in Peter's eyes, as well, though he would have denied it. Would she leave anyway? Was there nothing he could say? Would she go and sleep in some man's bed and not be a spinster and forget all about Peter Pan? No!

Wendy said quietly, "I was wrong to say so, Peter. It is not for me to say what you should want. I know now that being a boy in Neverland is what you love most in the world."

"But it's not! You are! I'm 'in love' with you!" Peter insisted.

Wendy's face went quite quite pale and she looked for a moment as if she might faint. Peter put his hands upon her upper arms, to hold her upright. "Wendy ... Wendy, are you ill?" Was she actually sickened that he might be "in love" with her? But she had said the same to him! Why would she then look so pale and stricken?

Wendy pressed a slender hand to her forehead and tried to take deep breaths, thankful that her chest was no longer bound. Peter simply could not mean what he had said. He must be confused again about what love meant.

"Peter," Wendy began, trying to wipe her tears from her face as discreetly as possible, and failing miserably. They were simply too obvious. "Peter, I think you do not truly understand what love means."

Frowning impatiently, Peter said, "No! When I am with you, my heart beats fast and I want to touch your hair and when you kiss me I feel like I will catch fire and I feel strange in my stomach and ... and ... I feel 'feelings', so very many and ... and when you are bathing ... and ... and Wendy ... Wendy, I want to be with you always. **Always**." He had been clutching her hand quite tightly between both of his, almost to the point of hurting her. It was important that she believe what he was saying, for she simply couldn't leave him. If she did, this time he really would be a tragedy, just as Hook had claimed.

"Wendy," he pled, bending his head to look directly into her very blue eyes. "Wendy, **my** Wendy, please don't leave me again."

The young woman simply stared at him, though tears still moistened her cheeks and glistened in her eyes. Peter stroked her hair away from her face and gazed at her so very seriously.

Shaking her head as if in shock, Wendy admitted hesitantly, "I do not know what to do, Peter. You ask me to stay in Neverland, and you speak of love, but I ... what is it you want from me, Peter? Am I to leave my family and friends behind, give up any hope of marrying."

But she did not finish her sentence, for Peter interrupted. "I want for us to share the bed."

Wendy's eyes widened once more, and she blushed. She was beginning to think that would be a nearly permanent state of affairs around this mostly-grown-up Peter. She squeaked, "**What?**"

"I want us to share the bed," Peter repeated. "You said that a lady and a gentleman share a bed and are married, to be with each other always. That is what I want ... to be with you always, Wendy."

Wendy stared at Peter in wonder. "Are you saying ... are you saying you wish to **marry** me, Peter?"

Peter frowned again, "I just said so!" Why was Wendy having so much difficulty understanding what he was saying? Was he saying it wrong?

But then, slowly, a watery smile spread across Wendy's face. She hooked her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his, so that their faces were very very close to each other.

"Yes," she said softly, her breath touching Peter's skin. "Yes, Peter Pan, I will marry you."

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**Author's Note:** Aw, jeez, I'm such a sappy romantic! That's not the end, of course. Still a few more chapters yet to come.


	15. Marriage

**Author's Note (or, rather, warning):** Okay, I changed my mind. This chapter contains R-rated sex (and I am therefore changing the story's rating), because that's how it happened when I wrote it. Well, to be honest, it's mostly R-rated **pre**-sex, but still....

I know that some readers of this story do not want to read about sex, so I've kept this chapter entirely independent, making sure that you won't miss anything if you skip it. If you don't want to read about sex, then simply know that in this chapter Wendy and Peter quite innocently make love as a method of declaring themselves to be married, and it is a wonderful expression of their love and commitment. See? There you go. No need to read the chapter at all. You won't miss any plot. I promise.

The presence of sex in this story has a purpose, though, which is to define Peter's transition to manhood. The kiss on the pirate ship (in the film) was the first step, jolting Peter out of boyhood, but in the world of this story he has since lived in limbo, no longer a boy but not yet a man. Making love with Wendy is his final big step toward choosing to become a man instead of a child. That is why there have been hints at Peter's sexuality throughout the story; this has been building since their first kiss. And now that they've decided to marry, I can assure you that married people, especially **young** married people, do tend to make love. A lot. It is, after all, part of the whole marriage deal. I'm an authority ... I'm married. :)

So skip the chapter or read it, whichever works for you. I hope this compromise pleases most of you. If not, I gave it my best shot.

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How does one get married in Neverland? There are no churches, no priests, no paperwork to sign, date, stamp, or seal. Wendy briefly considered flying home to be married in London, but the thought of Peter dressed in a tuxedo with his hair slicked down was simply too absurd for words. She wanted to marry Peter just as he was, for that was how she loved him.

As for Peter, it had never occurred to him that marrying might be complicated.

Neverland is not a city, not a town, not a refined place of culture and rules. Neverland is, instead, a primal place of natural law, and natural law since the beginning of time has united a man and a woman through their bodies and hearts, long before the world had paperwork or priests.

Peter, having lived so long in Neverland, had little idea what transpired between a married man and woman, except that they should sleep in the same bed. And so, to him, marrying was quite simple. He and Wendy would sleep in the large bed together, this time without her in disguise, preferably with their arms around each other, and afterward, as a result, they would be married.

Wendy, for her part, being a proper young lady of the Victorian era, knew little more than he. She had, however, in her wide reading, occasionally gotten glimpses of something more that happened between two people in love, though she was unsure exactly what it was.

And so that evening Wendy and Peter climbed into the large bed-hollow together, fully clothed and ready to sleep. Wendy had bathed first, wanting to be as pretty as possible for Peter on their wedding night ... and Peter had, most surprisingly, followed suit. It seemed he too was rather self-conscious about being so close to Wendy this night, particularly given his old fears of being offensively smelly. And so they entered their marriage bed shining and clean, smiling shyly at each other and holding hands.

Wendy lay down first, with Peter beside her still on hands and knees. He watched her hair spread out upon the furs and blankets, and he reached out a hand to stroke the shining waves, then glanced uncertainly at Wendy's face. She smiled and reached out to stroke his cheek. "Yes, Peter. You may touch me. May I touch you, as well?"

Peter stroked her hair gently, marveling at its softness, and nodded. "I like it when you touch me," he said.

"Me too," admitted Wendy, running her hands through Peter's hair as she had longed to do since first she had met him. Wendy leaned up to press a feather-light kiss against Peter's throat, and he made a small surprised sound. "Was that wrong?" asked Wendy.

Shaking his head slightly, Peter murmured in a husky voice, "It felt good."

Gladdened, Wendy leaned up again to press another, slightly firmer kiss to the side of Peter's neck. His eyes closed and he arched his head to one side, baring more of his neck to Wendy's touch. But leaning up in this way was uncomfortable for Wendy, and so she pulled him closer to her. He lay down beside her on the furs and watched her with darkened eyes. Wendy pressed another kiss just below Peter's right ear, then upon his ear lobe, her warm breath unintentionally flowing across and into that sensitive organ.

Peter's eyes fluttered shut once more and he moaned softly. One of Wendy's hands was upon the bare skin of his chest now, and Peter began to feel a sense of urgency that embarrassed him slightly. This was not the first time he had experienced the pleasure of his body, for more than once, while he watched Wendy bathe, his pleasure had quite overtaken him, but this was the first time it had ever felt so intense. He was not sure what to do about this feeling, or how to tell Wendy about it, or even if she might find it disgusting, and so he did his best to ignore it ... but his body reacted to Wendy's touch even against his will.

In an attempt to distract himself from the intense sensations he was experiencing, Peter opened his eyes and tried to mimic Wendy's actions. He kissed the side of her neck. Like a young animal -- for, indeed, he was one, in many ways -- he sniffed her neck briefly and then licked her skin with his tongue. She tasted very faintly of salt, but mostly of Wendy. He bit her neck very lightly and she shuddered. His worried eyes met hers, but Wendy reassured him, "It feels good. It all feels good, Peter."

Peter nodded. "I know. It does. I want ... more ... something ... more." Peter leaned to press his lips to hers, enjoying the moist softness of her mouth, the taste of her lips and tongue, even the feel of her smooth teeth. Wendy twined her arms around Peter's neck and returned his kiss with such heat and sweetness that Peter helplessly pressed his body against her side, then suddenly jerked away nervously when he realized that she might feel his excitement and be offended.

Wendy's eyes were large and uncertain, gazing into Peter's embarrassed ones. "Peter?" she asked, not sure what her question was. Her lips were still parted and glistening, and Peter was tempted to simply kiss her again to stop whatever she was asking him. But she continued to look at him with questions in her eyes, and perhaps even a small amount of fear, and Peter could not let her feel bad because of him.

"It's nothing," he lied. "It will go away." And it would. Eventually. He hoped. This was really terribly embarrassing.

"What is it?" Wendy asked, still confused.

Peter blushed and looked away. "When I ... when something ... when I kiss you ... it feels so good ... my body ... it feels different inside ... and then ... well ... this happens." Peter was growing increasingly embarrassed, almost to the point of humiliation. Apparently, this did not happen to other people. Apparently, it was only him. Was he a freak of some sort? What must Wendy think?

"Does it hurt?" Wendy asked.

Peter shook his head quickly. "No. Well ... yes ... if it stays that way a long time. But otherwise no. It can feel good, even."

Wendy looked curious, but not disgusted. Not disgusted was good, right?

"What makes it feel good?" she asked.

"Um ... if I ... if I touch it," he stammered, back to the horrifying embarrassment. Would she guess that he had watched her bathing? Would she be very angry with him?

But Wendy was an adventurous young woman, and so she simply reached out a hand to touch Peter's stomach, noticing with interest when it twitched beneath her fingers, and then tentatively stroked lower. Even with the layers of leaves between them, her hand seemed to burn his skin. After only moments, he grabbed her wrist. "Stop!" he gasped.

Wendy froze, certain she had done something terribly wrong. "I'm sorry!" she said quickly. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

Peter panted, still holding her wrist, until he felt he could speak. "No, you didn't do anything wrong," he assured her somewhat breathlessly. "It just felt too good."

"Too good?" Wendy asked in confusion. But Peter did not want to tell her about the substance that came out sometimes. He feared it might be a sign of some horrible illness. In fact, that would make sense, since it felt somewhat like a sneeze ... only much better.

"Wendy?" Peter asked softly. "Wendy, may I just ... just kiss you for a while?"

Wendy blushed slightly, but nodded. Peter held her cheek in on of his hands, pressing his lips to hers once more. This was becoming more familiar, more comfortable, though beneath was always a thrumming excitement. As they shifted to get nearer to each other, Wendy's shirt rode up slightly. Peter did not see it, but his hand did suddenly encounter bare skin where he had not expected it, low on her back. He stilled immediately, afraid that Wendy would be angry.

Pulling away from him slightly, Wendy looked into his eyes and said gently, "We are married now, Peter. My ... my body is yours." Peter's eyes widened. Her body was his? What did that mean? He unconsciously flexed his hand against the skin of her back.

After a long moment, he relented and asked, "Um ... what does that mean, Wendy?" He'd hoped she was going to explain, but she hadn't, which left him once again asking questions that made him feel foolish.

"Well, I know that ... they say that ... a man and wife are ... one flesh," Wendy explained, not seeming too sure of herself.

"But ... what does **that** mean?" Peter was growing impatient. He didn't understand why this was all so complicated. In Neverland things were usually so simple!

"I think it means that ... we ... we share our bodies ... with each other." Wendy was looking into his eyes nervously.

"Share ... our ... bodies," Peter repeated slowly. "Does that mean we should ... should we not be wearing clothes? Or do we share our bodies ... and clothes?"

Wendy bit her lip. "I ... I don't know, Peter. I think ... perhaps ... we are meant to ... sleep with ... with our bodies beside each other ... with our flesh ... touching ... as if we were one." She watched Peter's face uncertainly.

"Wendy, this all seems so complicated. I'm afraid I'm going to do something wrong." Peter was feeling close to tears now. "All I want to do is be married to you so that we can be together always."

"I know, Peter. I am truly **trying** to figure things out. I'm just confused."

Peter relaxed considerably at that. "You are? Me too!"

Wendy smiled broadly at him. "What a pair we are!"

Peter grinned in response. He felt so much more at ease now. "Well," he reasoned, "we may as well take off our clothes, since it will be more comfortable for sleeping, anyway. Your trousers, in particular, look rather unpleasant for sleeping. I've often thought so."

Wendy nodded nervously and they both climbed from the bed again. They removed their clothing rather self-consciously, each sending nervous glances at the other, then climbed back into the bed, their bodies brushing unintentionally, each glancing touch leaving a sizzle of excitement in its wake.

And so our young lovers lay down once more in their marriage bed and began again their tentative, tender explorations, unhindered now by unnecessary barriers. Their conversation gave way to more prolonged exchanges of kisses and occasional encouraging whispers, while their hesitant hands learned the unexpected differences between their bodies. The experience was, in many ways, quite similar to Peter's disturbing dreams, and yet here the fear was utterly replaced by warmth and joy. They pressed kisses to flesh and hands to lips and came to know each other as if they truly were two halves of the same body.

In their innocence, Peter and Wendy approached the act of love as a voyage, as an adventure to be shared just between they two. And so when, at last, their bodies were joined, they gazed into each other's eyes with wonder at this unknown miracle they had discovered together.

Afterward, when they lay replete upon the furs, their arms around each other and a sweetly-earned sweat pooling upon their flesh, the two lovers quietly whispered pledges and vows to each other, and Peter found himself more happy than he could ever remember feeling before this moment.

In making love, in taking a wife, Peter had made his choice. He had chosen to become a man, and it was not at all what he had ever thought it would be.

It was, he found, far better.

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**Author's End Note:** So there you go. That's what all the fuss was about. There'll be another chapter soon, whether you review or not ... but don't let that stop you from reviewing. Well, unless you want to tell me I suck, in which case, be discouraged from reviewing, by all means!


	16. Change

**Author's Note:** This chapter was intended to lead straight into the finale, because I've been worried that I'm dragging out the end too long and y'all are going to lose interest before I've finished ... but the resulting chapter turned out incredibly long, and so I'm breaking it into two parts. The other half needs some work before it's ready to upload. I hope my readers will hang in there with me.

I've really appreciated the reviews I've been getting. I'm sorry that I haven't been responding to each individually, but I plan to respond to some by email when I have the time. Currently, I've been spending most of my free time working on this story when I'm not hanging out with my husband. And, believe me, he can't wait until I finish this story and start spending more time with him again. :)

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Peter woke quite early in the morning, when the day was still nearly night, and found that Wendy lay warm in his arms, her head nestled comfortably against his shoulder. He carefully shifted his weight so that he could see her face by the soft light of their still-burning candles, and he lay gazing at her in perfect silence for some time. He remembered watching her sleep on previous occasions, and marvelled at how different the experience had become. Now, he felt as if Wendy were a part of him. They could never be separated, not by anything.

He was glad that he had wakened so very early, for it gave him time alone with his thoughts. Once, he would have fought anyone who attempted to **force** him to sit and think, but now he found that he had many things to consider. He thought of Captain Hook, and his many taunts and jibes that had in the past wounded Peter so deeply. They now seemed utterly harmless, for he now knew Wendy's heart, and knew that it was his, and all else was unimportant in comparison. Peter smiled at the thought, and at how easily Wendy had neutralized all of Hook's poison words, simply by giving him her love. In so many ways, Peter felt that she had truly saved him.

He thought, too, about the Neverland, and about why he had come here so very long ago, so long ago he could not clearly remember ever living anywhere else. He had a vague memory of his parents, of a house, of school and lessons and having a ruler smacked against his hand when he had misbehaved. What he **did** remember quite clearly was the feeling of rebellion that had surged through him at the thought of growing up, at the thought of no longer being a boy, at the thought of becoming a man. That insolent spirit had taken him to Kensington Gardens, and to Tinkerbell, and to the Neverland. The Neverland had provided him with a refuge -- a safe haven from the reality of the world -- a glittering, shimmering, rollicking wonderland of boyhood pleasures -- created, it seemed, just for him.

But now he found himself wondering for the very first time about the Neverland. For the first time, Peter thought of the world as a man rather than a boy, he considered the world without himself at its center, and wondered at how differently things appeared in that light.

He had always simply assumed, if in fact he thought of it at all, that the Neverland existed purely for his own enjoyment, but now he found himself wondering if that were true. Had the Neverland simply leapt into being when he arrived, or had it existed even before he came, even before he had ever dreamt of running away? Was it ... was it even remotely possible that there had been some other boy who had ruled the Neverland long before Peter had even lived?

The idea was new to Peter, but it felt true in some part of himself that he could not name. He wished he could go to ask the mermaids, for they had such extensive knowledge of all things mysterious, but they had long ago ceased answering his call. And, in any case, he would not wish to leave Wendy alone in their bed after all they had felt together.

He tried to turn his thoughts elsewhere, but his questions and ponderings plagued him so very persistently that he did eventually resolve to do just as Wendy had done, and call to the mermaids. If they had come for her, perhaps they might come for him as well.

And so Peter carefully moved Wendy so that she lay alone in their bed, he softly kissed her sweet lips, he dressed, he attached his pipes to his belt, and he silently left the tree to walk through the forest in the pre-dawn twilight.

* * *

Now, mermaids, for their part, have dark, hidden reasons for all things they do: the information they choose to give, the places they deign to appear, the calls they see fit to answer, the songs they sometimes gather to sing to the midnight moon. No one can fathom their secrets, nor predict their caprices.

Mermaids, are, however, eternally tempted by the strange, the foreign, the unusual, the exotic. They will come to an unfamiliar call far more often than a familiar one, answer a new question far more willingly than an old one, and sing an untried song far more beautifully than the tried-and-true. They have a deep affinity with all things mysterious, and so are beguiled by riddles, puzzles, ambiguities, oddities, novelties, all things alien and marvelous.

Peter had long ago concluded that the mermaids ceased responding to his piping because they had abandoned him, when in truth they might have come to him quite willingly, had he simply been wishing to ask the right questions.

Instead, poor Peter had frequented the shores of their lagoon, perched upon their rocks, and fretted on petulant questions about why he was growing up and what he could do to cause it to stop. This had not tempted the mermaids to him, for the questions were always the same, and the answers were far too simple. After all, he needed only look within his own heart to learn what he was seeking.

Mermaids will not, you see, be called to answer easy questions, questions that they expect the questioner to understand without their help, for they consider it a waste of their time and their powers, and so they simply ignore such calls. They would far rather pursue some new mystery in the ocean's deepest depths than answer familiar, tired, boring questions from some familiar, tired, boring person, and so indeed they had ignored Peter for rather a long time.

Now, however, Peter was contemplating far more intriguing riddles, which the mermaids found quite deliciously seductive. They tasted his questions in the air and in the water long before ever he arrived at their lagoon, and so -- though Peter did not realize it -- they eagerly gathered together to hover beneath the waves, just out of sight, slyly anticipating his call.

* * *

Peter crouched upon the rocks at the edge of the water, unknowingly taking the same place that Wendy had taken so very recently in her own attempt to learn from the sea creatures.

He had not played his pipes in so very long that he was not certain he could play music fine enough to lure the mermaids, but he readied himself to do his best.

The mermaids, much to his surprise, rose to the surface after he had played only a few hesitant notes and swam to him with greedy eyes. This was some new Pan, they had realized, and not the old Pan with whom they were so familiar. This was some new creature, and so they were driven to even greater heights of fascination. Several of them reached arms up toward the rock, up toward Pan, longing to touch this enthralling mortal.

But Peter had known the mermaids long and well, and so he kept his distance and leaned cautiously to ask his questions. The mermaids responded with words that overlapped and broke upon each other like waves, words that slipped and slid along each other like fish. Their speech -- not truly speech, after all -- is difficult to phrase in human words, but if you had been listening to them as they spoke to Peter Pan that twilit morning, the eerie sounds you heard might have been translated thus:

_Neverland boy is  
Boy dream is  
Neverland child is  
Neverland always is  
Always boy is  
Always child is  
Child always is  
Neverland boy is  
Neverland Neverland is  
Childhood boy is  
Neverland boy is  
Boy Neverland is  
Boy Neverland makes  
Child Neverland is  
Child always is  
Child dream is  
Dream Neverland makes  
Boy dream is  
Neverland boy is  
Neverland Neverland is_

* * *

Wendy woke slowly that morning, a smile on her lips and the night's memory close to her heart. She and Peter were now married. The thought sent a shiver of happiness through her.

But then another thought occurred to her as she lay, still not fully wakened. How disappointed Mother would be, that there had not been a proper wedding. Wendy was, after all, the only daughter, and mothers do love to fuss over a bride.

This realization brought along with it yet another thought, for Wendy guiltily recalled that she had left no note or explanation of any kind before leaving with Tinkerbell that night which now seemed so long ago. Her parents must be quite beside themselves with worry for her, particularly as this had happened before. They might think she had vanished permanently this time ... and in a way they would be correct. But she would need to go back to visit as soon as possible, to tell them what had happened, and that she was safe and happy. She could not allow them to worry any longer than they already had done.

Determined to leave as quickly as she and Peter could manage, Wendy opened her eyes and discovered that she was not alone in the large bed. Her bedfellow, however, was not quite whom she had expected to see. She was lying on her back, and instead of Peter beside her, Wendy found a fairy weightlessly sprawled across her forehead, one foot dangling over her eyebrow and quite nearly into her left eye.

Rolling her eyes upward in an effort to see the tiny creature, Wendy guessed sleepily, "Tinkerbell?"

Wakened by Wendy's voice, Tinkerbell flew into the air above the young lady's face and jingled and jangled a very good morning.

"Where is Peter?" Wendy asked. Tinkerbell seemed unconcerned. Peter, after all, had long been a boy of wanderings and adventures and could not be expected to be in any particular place at any particular time. Tinkerbell was sure he would return.

Wendy then had a most disturbing and embarrassing thought. "Were you here last night, Tink?" But no, Tinkerbell excitedly chattered on about something or other which Wendy did not entirely catch, but it appeared that the fairies had gathered during the night for a ceremony or some such.

Things were happening in the forest, Tinkerbell said. Things were happening, and Wendy must come out.

Wendy thought this sounded rather ominous, but she was prepared to face danger if necessary. Was Peter somehow involved? Where had he gone? Wendy rose from her wedding bed to pull on her clothes once more, though she found herself more conscious this morning of how shabby and unflattering the simple trousers and shirt were. How she longed for one of her pretty dresses from home! Peter would love to see her so pretty, she was sure.

Pulling her maligned clothing on, she also found that her body ached in some unfamiliar places, but it was a delicious ache that only served to remind her of all that had happened between herself and Peter. She wished he were here with her, but prepared herself to go outside. Lest there might be trouble afoot, she stopped to attach one of Peter's small sheathed daggers to the vine about her waist, and then she was ready to face the forest.

Tinkerbell had been making rather impatient noises, even occasionally swooping in toward Wendy and scolding quite rudely. But Wendy trusted Tinkerbell, for the fairy had done her no harm on this visit and had actively helped Peter, and so Wendy was quite surprised when she emerged from the tree to see Princess Tigerlily standing before her.

Wendy reached for her knife immediately, drawing it in the blink of an eye. Peter had taught her well.

"I come," said Princess Tigerlily in halting English.

Nodding suspiciously and keeping her knife trained upon the Indian maiden, Wendy asked, "How do you speak my language?"

"I hide," explained the young girl. "Boys, pirates. I listen. I learn. You come!"

"I am not going anywhere with a girl who tried to kill Peter," insisted Wendy. "I am sure this must be a trick."

"No trick," insisted Tigerlily. "You come. Feast! You feast. We feast. All feast."

Feast? What in the world was she talking about? Tinkerbell settled just over Wendy's shoulder and assured her that all was safe. The forest was astir. Much was happening. Something was coming. And a celebration was beginning to grow.

"I cannot leave without Peter," said Wendy. "He will worry."

But Princess Tigerlily shook her head and demanded, "You come! Pan come. Fairy come. You come now." Tinkerbell assured Wendy that indeed she would go to fetch Peter, and that Wendy should be safe with the Indian tribe. It seemed to Wendy that many things had changed during the night, and Neverland was grown quite quite different than it had been the previous day.

Keeping her knife in her hand, ready for an attack, Wendy warily followed Tigerlily through the forest. Upon arriving at the Indians' camp, she gripped her knife more tightly and eyed the gathered savages with considerable alarm. An older man wearing an elaborate feathered headdress that hung almost to his knees stepped forward from the crowd. He spoke, but Wendy did not understand his words. She turned to Princess Tigerlily.

"My father say ... welcome ... ceremony done ... feast now. All feast now."

"What ceremony?" asked Wendy. Did they mean the fairies' ceremony that Tinkerbell had mentioned? What had that to do with her?

"Ceremony," repeated Tigerlily. "You. Pan. Ceremony. Sleep. Touch. **Ceremony**."

Wendy's jaw dropped in a rather unladylike manner, her face rapidly suffused with a blush. "You mean ... last night?"

Tigerlily translated for her father, and the gathered tribe began to nod and smile. "Ceremony," the chief agreed stiffly in his deep voice. He glanced at his daughter to make sure he had spoken correctly, and then looked back at Wendy. "Now," he said with great care and majesty, "feast!"

Wendy was finding herself quite overwhelmed by this unexpected turn of events and was not quite sure what to do. She smiled hesitantly at the chief, who nodded in response.

Princess Tigerlily stepped toward Wendy again and said, "I help. You come. Women help." Wendy was unsure what exactly the women were going to "help", but thus far nothing had seemed ominous or suspicious, and so she accompanied Tigerlily to one of the tepees and followed her inside.

* * *

Around them all of Neverland was astir, in motion, quite drunk with joy and anticipation. Just as Peter had once unconsciously controlled Neverland's weather, just so all of Neverland was still on this day aware of him, and all knew a change was upon them. They had felt it upon the wind, heard it in the rustling of the leaves, seen it in the rays of the sunlight, and tasted it in the salt of the ocean's spray.

Change had reached out its finger and touched Neverland.

A new era was coming.

___________________________

**Author's End Note:** FYI: There are only two more chapters left: the finale and the epilogue.

Many thanks, again, to all who have reviewed. To be honest, I wait quite eagerly for readers' responses, and so am excited each time I receive the email that tells me another review has been submitted. If you've been enjoying the story but haven't reviewed, do a poor author a favor and leave a short note, eh? I sometimes feel like I'm throwing my beloved little chapters out into a void.


	17. A New Era

**Author's Notes:** Wow. I can't believe this story is almost done. I'm quite looking forward to writing the Epilogue, though, because I think it's going to be great fun.

Thanks again to all reviewers. You've made the process of writing this story a lot more fun. I was feeling pretty down yesterday, so reviews really cheered me up. And now, two quick responses to specific reviewers:

Mara Trinity Scully: In chapter 15 I actually **did** write Peter's reaction to Wendy's surprisingly different naughty bits, but it just didn't turn out sounding quite right, and so I decided to cut it rather than fuss with it endlessly to try to fix it. Thank you for your compliment on the mermaids! I had a lot of fun writing them, so I'm glad you liked reading them as well. And I hope you'll like what happens in the Epilogue.

Fly Girl2: I hope you like how chapter 15 turned out. Thank you for the offers to work with me, but I don't really work together with other authors unless they need a beta reader for their own work. Thank you for the kind offer, though. :)

And to those who have asked, I currently do not have plans to write a sequel to this story or to write another Peter Pan story. If I come up with another idea that excites me enough, I'll write another story, but I can't promise anything until/unless inspiration strikes. I'm really glad you have been enjoying this story, though. :)

Lastly, I must admit that I drastically reorganized this chapter after first writing it, and so I apologize if there are any awkward transitions.

______________________________

When Wendy emerged from the women's tepee, she looked quite different than when she had gone inside. The women of the tribe had taken great care to anoint her with special scented oils and dress her in a beautiful traditional Indian dress of white leather, decorated about the neck and shoulders in complex designs of tiny beads in many colors. The dress's fringe swung when she moved, and Wendy found that she rather liked the sensation. She also wore white leather moccasins which extended up to cover her her legs to just below the knee, and the moccasins too were decorated with fringe and multi-colored beadwork. The women had even given her a white bone knife, much like the one that Princess Tigerlily carried, which fit into a small sheath at the waist of her dress.

After the Indian women had helped her into her dress, a group of fairies had flown into the tepee, for on this day all creatures of the Neverland had joined together in friendship. The fairies had woven tiny blue and white flowers into Wendy's hair, scattered here and there, so that they looked almost like stars surrounding her lovely face.

Upon leaving the tepee, she turned to thank the women and fairies who had attended her, but before a word escaped her lips, her attention was captured by the young man who stood a small distance away.

Peter, too, had been transformed. Though he was still clothed only in his trousers made of leaves, he also wore an intricately woven crown of leaves and berries which the Fairy King had presented to him, and the Indians had painted his face and chest with arcane designs symbolizing good omens and wishes for joy and prosperity. Peter truly looked the King of Neverland in that moment, so savage and so noble.

Wendy walked to him and they smiled shyly at one another. "Wendy," he whispered, "you are even more beautiful than before!" She blushed, but kept her eyes on his. For this man was now her husband, and she need never fear his gaze again.

"You look so fierce and so handsome!" she responded. And indeed he did.

"I must talk to you, Wendy. It is so very important." He took her hand in his as he spoke, his eyes clearly speaking of his urgency.

Surprised, Wendy admitted, "I must talk to you of something important, as well."

Looking about them, they saw everywhere apparently chaotic preparations for some large celebration. Surely no one would notice if they slipped into the woods for a brief time. And so they did.

"Peter," Wendy began hurriedly, before she might lose her courage, "I'm sorry, but I **must** go home. I told no one where I was going when I left, and so my parents and my brothers must be so very worried, not knowing what has become of me. I do not mean to leave you ... I need only go back for a brief visit, Peter, but I simply **must** go to tell them that I am safe and happy with you, so that they will not worry."

Taking her face into his two hands, cupping her cheeks with his palms, Peter looked into Wendy's eyes and said solemnly, "I spoke to the mermaids, Wendy. And I learned much from them. I hope you will not be sorry."

Wendy now looked suddenly worried. "Sorry? What would I be sorry about, Peter?"

Lowering his hands from her face, Peter explained haltingly, "It is the Neverland, Wendy. It is not **mine**. It belongs to a boy, it is meant for a boy, and I ... I am not a boy any longer."

Tinkerbell came upon them in their hiding place and circled their heads in a shower of fairy dust, nagging at them to come back to the village, where all had gathered to wish them well. Peter shot Wendy an apologetic glance and said, "We can talk more after the party. I have so much to tell you."

And so they followed Tinkerbell back to the center of the Indians' village, only to find it peopled with all manner of Neverland inhabitants ... for the entire Neverland was quite drunk with joy and anticipation of some great change. A great table was laid with many different kinds of foods, including exotic fruits, berries from the forest, baked fish, fowl of some sort, and a roast beast that Wendy was quite unable to identify. Too, there were beverages of many kinds, including not only rum and muscat, but also delicious juices from the fruits of Neverland's forests. The table was filled so completely that here and there small fruits dangled from the edges.

As so many Indians, fairies, and pirates were milling about with little to do thus far, the Indian chief deemed it wise to begin the feasting before the diverse group of Neverlanders began lunging toward each other instead of toward the food. The pirates, it must be admitted, were a particular worry in this regard.

And yes, I did say "pirates," for quite a few of them were present, as well. This was a day of armistice in the Neverland, and all wars and battles were temporarily suspended, if only for a few brief hours of shared celebration. The world belonged to all of them, after all, and this day they would share it in harmony and joy.

And so the Indian chief did welcome all to the table, and all took to the food and drink, and made themselves quite merry. Once all had served themselves, however, Tigerlily's father raised a hand to signal that he wished to speak. All laughter and talk paused, and all turned to listen.

"Pan," he said in his deep voice. "Pan ceremony. Pan wife." And here he nodded sagely and approvingly toward Peter and Wendy, and all applauded. Even the fairies jingled a celebratory sound.

"Now," continued the chief, "Pan go." He nodded again, looking at Peter. "Boy come." And once again the gathered Neverlanders applauded their approval and excitement. The chief looked toward the Fairy King and Queen where they hovered gracefully nearby, and he nodded once more, then took a step backward.

The two royal leaders of the fairy kingdom flew to the center of the gathered inhabitants of their fine world, and they began to speak, their words sometimes overlapping slightly as they finished each other's sentences. They were, it seemed, almost as one in their speaking this day, and it was quite lovely to see and hear as they floated in gracefuly circles and designs as if they were dancing while they spoke.

"Pan has been Neverland's boy long and long," they said in their tiny fairy voices, and yet somehow all could hear them, for it is part of the mystery of Neverland that fairies can be understood whenever they wish, and **only** when they wish.

"Pan is boy no longer," spoke the King and Queen. "Neverland needs a new boy whose dreams shall feed our existence, so that we in turn might answer his dreams. Neverland without a boy would simply fade into nothing, for we would have no purpose."

Wendy was growing quite distressed by all of this talk. Were they ... did they truly think to **banish** Peter from Neverland? Was that what they were saying? Peter sensed her panic beside him and squeezed her hand gently in reassurance. He raised his chin slightly, and when he was certain that he would not interrupt the fairies, he spoke.

"I met with the mermaids this morning," he began, "and in their dark wisdom they helped me to better understand the Neverland and myself. I see now that the Neverland does not belong to me. It belongs, instead, to boyhood and all boys' dreams and wishes, created of all a boy could desire."

He took a deep breath and looked at Wendy by his side. "Neverland does not belong to Pan. Neverland belongs to Boy. I've chosen to grow up, and so ... I no longer belong here, Wendy. This is not my place ... it is no longer my home."

Wendy was shaking her head disbelievingly. "They cannot make you leave, Peter! You love Neverland so!"

Peter took her hands in his once more. "I do love the Neverland, Wendy, but it is not a man's place. The Neverland is a place made specially for a boy, and I am a boy no longer. I have made my choice, and I do not regret it for a moment. It is time for me to find a **new** place that is mine, just as the Neverland once was mine."

Wendy smiled bravely, still feeling quite shocked and worried by all she had heard, and in truth needing considerably more time to understand it.

Seeing her nervousness, Peter leaned closer and gently pressed his lips to hers in a reassuring kiss, feeling her mouth mould itself to his as if they had been lovers for centuries rather than only hours. Their kiss was interrupted, however, by the clamoring of the crowd as they applauded the embracing couple. Wendy and Peter pulled apart, blushing both of them.

Captain Hook stepped forward so that all might see him in all his dashing splendor, for he too had something to say. "Without a doubt, some other insolent, impertinent boy shall decide not to grow up, and he shall run away in search of some supposedly **grand** adventure, and find his way to us here in Neverland, where I shall do my best to make mincemeat of the annoying rascal. He shall be merry and young and heartless and all things that cause my blood to boil, and we shall all once more serve our intended purposes. Mine, of course, shall be to rip the horrible child's throat out, which I shall do with great delight!" At which words the pirates cheered loudly and long, raising their mugs of grog to show their hearty approval of the captain's bloodthirsty words.

Wendy turned to Peter once more, still feeling quite overwhelmed by these revelations. "The mermaids told you of all this, Peter?" When he nodded, she mused, "I wonder if they were trying to tell me something similar when I spoke with them. I suppose we will never know."

But the Fairy King told her, "It is most likely, young lady, for all Neverland has been aware of this coming change. A new era is just on the horizon, and all Neverland can feel it."

And they were correct, even Captain Hook, for all children grow up except for one ... and Peter was no longer that one. Another was needed to take his place, or Neverland would no longer serve its true purpose. For Neverland had existed long before Peter Pan, and it would exist long after he had gone. Neverland, you see, is as eternal as boyhood, and the two need and sustain each other. One cannot exist without the other. Neverland most desperately needed a new boy. And so all knew that Peter must go to a grown-up world, and leave childish things to the children, leave Neverland to the boys.

Peter knelt on one knee before Wendy and looked up into her face with some trepidation. "Will you come away with me, then, Wendy? Will you leave the Neverland with me this night, so that we might seek our place in some strange new grown-up world, so that Neverland might belong to childhood, as it was meant to do?"

"You sound so different talking about this, Peter," she marvelled. "So eloquent. So ... grown-up."

Peter grinned cheekily. "It is only the mermaids and all these heavy thoughts. I assure you I am the same Pan as ever." And even as he said so, they both knew it was not quite true, for he had shown himself more than a boy, simply by how he had addressed this one problem. He had thought like a man, putting aside selfish desires to decide in favor of what was right. Wendy remembered her mother's description of Father's bravery that did not need revolvers or swords, and she now understood perhaps what Mother had meant.

"Will you come away, Wendy? Will you come away with me, and help me find my way in some strange new world?" Peter still gazed into her face with eyes trained on hers, and all those gathered around them were silent and still, awaiting Wendy's answer.

Wendy took Peter's hands in hers and pulled him to his feet, so that she now looked up into his face instead of he to hers. "I will always be by your side, Peter, in all things. We will be together and help each other always, remember? **Always.**"

And this time, Peter did not simply kiss her lips. Rather, he wrapped his arms about her and spun her around, and without either of them realizing it, they spun right up into the air to hover several feet above the gathered Neverlanders as their lips met once more in a kiss that seemed to seal some great promise.

Below them, the crowd roared their approval, and suddenly the celebration began in earnest, as the Indians began playing their drums and the warriors danced and the fairies flew upward to dance in a circle around Peter and Wendy as their kiss continued.

* * *

And so the gathered denizens of all Neverland partied together throughout the day and into evening. As darkness gathered, the Indians built a huge bonfire in the center of the village, around which warriors danced, casting long writhing shadows, while others continued their drumming. Pan joined in with their music, playing upon his pipes, and even the fairies added a tinkling melody as they hovered and swirled above the assembly. And, though few present in the village could hear it, in the far distance even the mermaids' eerie voices were raised in an unearthly song that rose mysteriously toward the moon.

All danced, as well, the fairies performing intricately changing patterns of light with their small bodies, twirling about each other in spirals and sudden curves. The pirates stomped clumsily around the fire in an attempt to mimic the Indian warriors' precise steps, and a few even tried to persuade Indian maidens to dance along with them, held in their meaty tattooed arms.

Peter and Wendy simply stepped close to each other and danced as they had done when they had been but children. The wonder was still there, but now the emotions had grown deep and lasting, and Peter held Wendy much closer to him than he had those many years before. Their hearts beat together and they gazed into each other's eyes as they danced together, and softly they smiled. And, just as before, they rose into the air and danced gracefully among the fairies. All saw them, and smiled, even if only for a brief grudging moment, as was the case with Captain Hook.

And so there were many kinds of music, and many kinds of dancing, and Wendy looked about her and deemed this very different, but nonetheless quite as fine as home. She would be immeasurably sad to leave Neverland, but what Peter had said seemed quite important to him, and she suspected it might even be true, though she could little fathom the secrets of Neverland herself.

And so all feasted and told merry stories, and the pirates winked and grinned and flirted outrageously with the more beautiful Indian maindens, and music was played by any who could. The pirates had even carried Hook's harpsichord through the forest to the village, and the captain himself once more played his favorite tune, which he had written himself:

_Yo ho, yo ho, the frisky plank,  
You walks along it so,  
Till it goes down and you goes down  
To Davy Jones below!_

And, this time, when Captain Hook sang about the "frisky plank," Wendy let her giggle escape. He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow, but simply continued with his playing.

Afterward, he came to Wendy and Peter with a sly gleam in his eye. He turned to Wendy with a smirk and said, "Lovely lady, you must allow me to congratulate you, for you have accomplished what I never could do."

"And what is that, Captain Hook?" Wendy asked.

"Why, you have defeated the boy Pan!" said Hook, grinning smugly at Peter.

Shaking her head, Wendy responded, "I did not defeat him, sir. Rather, we both have won something of far greater value than you shall ever find."

"But of course you have, **of course** you have!" Hook, agreed rather condescendingly, though in truth her words had wounded him more than he would admit, for surely she was correct in her assessment. But Hook would not let them see him wince, and so instead he smirked with a coy tilt of the head, "I do believe the tradition is that one might ask a kiss of the bride?"

Peter bristled, but Wendy smiled reassuringly at him, and he calmed. He still watched them closely, but trusted Wendy to know what she was doing. Wendy turned her cheek to the pirate captain and said, "You may have your kiss, Captain Hook."

Hook leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Wendy's cheek, then saying, "A pirate's benediction, then! And might I request your blessing in return?"

Peter stiffened once more, but Wendy touched his hand and he stood quite still, watching Hook with obvious mistrust and dislike.

Wendy, however, had a generous heart, and so she stepped closer to Captain Hook and rose on tiptoe to press her lips to his offered cheek. Hook, however, slyly turned his face at the last moment so that her lips met his.

A knife was pressed to his throat before Hook could even move, and he felt the slight trickle of his blood against the sharp knife's blade. Looking up at him was a grim-faced Wendy, wielding her white bone knife with cold anger, holding it pressed uncomfortably tight against his skin. "Touch me again so, Captain Hook," growled Wendy, "and this knife shall slit your throat before you have even time to beg my forgiveness."

Peter now was smiling with pride and amusement, for his Wendy could protect herself most admirably, only one of the many things he loved about her. She was quite good with a sword, too! But quite hopeless with a bow, unfortunately.

Hook raised his hands into the air, still maintaining his sardonic good humor, and said, "You do have my apologies, my dear lovely Wendy. I simply could not help myself in the face of such beauty."

"Try harder next time," warned Wendy, sheathing her knife and stepping away from the pirate.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "And **you** said that he was a **gentleman**!"

Glancing back at Hook in disappointed reproach, Wendy wiped her mouth and said, "I said he knew **how** to behave like a gentleman. I did not say he always **acted** upon that knowledge."

Hook simply shrugged his shoulders with a smile as if to say, _I am a pirate. What did you expect?_ He looked not at all chastened, but rather quite satisfied with himself as he walked away toward his harpsichord once more and returned to playing along with the Indians' drumming and the fairies' tinkling song.

Wendy and Peter then walked in a different direction, hand in hand, glad to forget Hook and simply enjoy the festivities. And there was a very great deal to enjoy, for it was the largest, most wonderful celebration that they -- or Neverland -- had ever seen.

After they had eaten their fill, danced until they were quite dizzy, and sung a great many songs in the firelit darkness, Peter and Wendy withdrew to sit together upon a large, low-hanging tree branch, where they quietly watched the wildness that filled the Indian village. The celebration had began to grow increasingly raucous -- most likely due to the large amount of rum and muscat that had been consumed by both the pirates and the unsuspecting Indians -- and Wendy and Peter began to wonder if they might sneak away, for they had a long trip before them, and Wendy did not wish to leave her family mired in worry for even one more night.

Peter first, however, needed to speak with Tinkerbell. He feared she would not understand his decision to leave Neverland, but he knew that he must explain to her before they left. Leaving Wendy to sit in their quiet hiding place, Peter went toward the fire, where he found Tinkerbell dancing with several other fairies, and softly called her name.

She flew to him, and he held out a hand for her to land upon. She stood and watched him, and then giggled delightedly at his serious face. Peter thought she did not know what was happening?

"I **know**, Peter. That is why we had a ceremony of our own last night. The rebirth of Neverland is at hand!"

Peter found himself feeling unexpectedly bereft. "You find it so easy, then? You will not even miss me? After all of our adventures together?"

Tinkerbell rolled her eyes and assured Peter that she would miss him. But even she knew that this was most likely a fib, for fairies are so very small, you see, that they have absolutely no sense of the passage of time. They are so small that they can only conceive of the existence of Now, and so they do not understand the concepts of yesterday or last week or last year, or even tomorrow. And in any case it was difficult to predict how Neverland might change when Peter had gone and a new boy had come.

And so, as long as Peter stood before her, Tinkerbell loved him with a deep passion, or as deep as fairies are capable of. But once he was gone, she would no doubt forget him much more quickly than either of them might like to believe when still they stood together as friends.

Peter did understand some of this, and it gave him a strange sense of relief, for he would hate to think of Tinkerbell grieving in his absence, for an unhappy fairy is a wrong, unnatural thing. And so it gave him some small amount of comfort to imagine that she would be merry and carefree even after he had gone. But it also gave him something of a pang to know that he would be forgotten so easily after all they had been to each other.

"You have been my very best friend, Tink. I shall miss you terribly." And, to his horror, Peter found an odd lump in his throat. They had had so very many tremendous adventures together and he would always remember her constant friendship.

Tinkerbell flew about him in a sudden spiral, which is the closest a fairy can come to hugging a human, and then she hovered close to press a tiny kiss to his cheek.

Peter smiled, and then found himself alone, for Tinkerbell had flown back to her fellows and resumed her dancing.

Peter looked around for Wendy, and found her still watching from a distance. He went to her and kissed her, holding her tight in his arms for a long moment as he tried to control his emotions. Wendy simply held him, running her hands soothingly over his back, until he lifted his head and blinked rapidly. No tears fell, and for that he was grateful. This was not a night for tears. He held Wendy's hand and walked toward the bonfire.

Once there, he released her hand and then raised both of his into the air. The music stopped, and all turned to listen. "We must go," Peter said, "but we thank you for all you have done for us, tonight and always. We will never forget you." And again Peter felt an odd feeling in his throat, as if tears might once again threaten, and so he simply bowed to the gathered assembly and took Wendy's hand again.

On the opposite side of the fire, Hook removed his elaborate hat and performed a showy bow of his own. "My respects to a very worthy enemy," he said, "and to his very lovely lady," at which Hook bowed again toward Wendy. Wendy responded with only a curt nod.

Wendy then leaned up to whisper in Peter's ear to ask if she too might say something. He nodded to her, and she stepped forward. "I wish to thank the chief of this tribe for welcoming us so graciously to this celebration." And Wendy curtsied to the Indian chief, who gave a stoic nod in return. Wendy then continued, "I would also like to thank Princess Tigerlily and the women of this village for this lovely dress and for their help in preparing me for this party." She curtsied to Princess Tigerlily, who smiled in friendship and, it seemed, even without words, in apology for their earlier encounter in the archery meadow.

Wendy then turned toward the largest cloud of fairies and spoke solemnly, "I owe much to the Fairy King and Fairy Queen, for it was they who showed me the path to helping not only Peter but myself. I owe you a great debt and am more grateful than I can explain." The Fairy King and Queen flew forward and each kissed Wendy on the cheek, jingling that she owed no debt, for all they had done had been done for the best of Neverland. They then flew back to their entourage.

Wendy swallowed, then said, "But there is one whose help has been most important of all, and whom I could never hope to thank as much as is owed. It was Tinkerbell who came to me, beyond Neverland, and told me that I was needed. It was she who brought me here and helped me in all I have tried to do since I arrived. She has long been a dear friend to Peter Pan, this I know, but she is now also friend to me, and I shall miss her greatly. Tinkerbell, I thank you, and I honor you, for you are a brave and wonderful soul." Wendy dashed a tear from her eye upon concluding this little speech, after which Tink flew up to her quite abruptly and circled her in another fairy hug, then kissed Wendy's cheek before flying in several merry circles in her excitement at having been so extravagantly complimented.

Peter stepped forward to take Wendy's hand once more, and together they bowed and curtsied to the people and creatures before them.

"Good-bye," said Peter solemnly. "Good-bye to all. And thank you."

Then Peter made sure that his hold on Wendy's hand was quite firm, and with happy thoughts of their future, they flew together into the air as all Neverland saluted and cheered them around the roaring bonfire. Even the trees with their rustling leaves did seem to wish the young lovers farewell and good-bye.

As they flew over Neverland, Peter and Wendy saw the Mermaids' Lagoon in the distance, and heard the mermaids' voices singing some dark and alien music. They saw the Black Castle where Peter had saved Princess Tigerlily and Wendy's brothers from the pirates. They saw the Jolly Roger moored just off-shore, with its tall masts and cluttered decks, full of barrels of rum, Long Tom the cannon, and various ropes strewn rather untidily about. They saw the place on that deck where Hook had nearly killed Peter, the place where Wendy had given Peter his very first kiss, a kiss which had instigated so very many changes since. They saw the hollow fairy tree where they had watched the fairies dance so long ago, and where they had first danced together in mid-air when they were still but children. They both remembered how Wendy had sat upon the roots at the base of that tree so many times in her hopes of helping Peter. And they saw their tree home below them, with its hidden look-out platform where they had watched the fairy procession and kissed each other so sweetly, and hidden within the tree its large bed-hollow where they had made their sacred marriage vows to one another.

Seeing all this, remembering all this, Peter and Wendy turned to smile at each other as they bid adieu to Neverland. Their hearts were full of joy and hope as they flew ever upward into the sky, past the moon and on toward London, leaving wondrous Neverland to the children it was always intended to serve.

"To live," quipped Peter with a ready grin, "will be an awfully big adventure!" And Wendy shook her head in delight, laughing aloud. And so, still holding hands, they rode the wind's back, and away they flew ... toward adventures they had not yet even begun to imagine.

For love, in truth, is an adventure all its own.

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**Author's Notes:** Well, I must admit that I cried a little bit while writing the farewells to Tinkerbell. *sniff*

I'm sure some people are going to write reviews complaining about Peter and Wendy not staying in Neverland, but that just wouldn't have made sense in this particular story. This is a story about growing up, and Neverland is not made for grown-ups. Just as Wendy moved out of the nursery when she was no longer a child, so Peter moves out of Neverland. I know some people won't like it, but it's the way this particular story logically ends.

Now all that's left is the Epilogue, folks. So stick around to find out what happens when Peter encounters London society!

Oh, and just so y'all know, the Wendy/Hook kiss in this chapter was written specifically for someone (who only signed themselves "Fan") who wrote a review specifically requesting it, and Wendy pulling a knife on Hook afterward was for Mara Trinity Scully, who wanted to see Wendy get out of something on her own without Peter helping her. I hadn't realized I hadn't written that yet until she mentioned it, so thank you, Mara! I love the little scene I ended up writing based on these two suggestions.


	18. Epilogue

**

Epilogue

**

Wendy's parents, of course, were quite deliriously happy to have her return safely to them, but it must be allowed that they were somewhat less pleased when their beloved daughter -- dressed, one must remember, quite extravagantly as an Indian princess -- informed them that she had chosen to marry a handsome young man dressed only in leaves who was not only painted in a rather alarming explosion of colored paints upon his body, but who also had absolutely no family and no prospects.

Knowing their daughter's stubborness, and also able to clearly see the love between the two young people, George and Mary Darling resigned themselves to a most unusual son-in-law, and set about trying to help the young couple get established.

Wendy had her annuity, of course, as well as her dowry, but truth was that Peter simply must find work if they were to live comfortably. George Darling, now a manager at the bank, might have helped Peter obtain a job with his office, but Peter quite blanched at the very suggestion, and Wendy gently explained that Peter might prefer a less ... confined ... work situation.

Thus it was that Aunt Millicent used her extensive social connections to help Peter in obtaining a position as a gardener for The Royal Parks Service. He was, ironically, assigned to Kensington Gardens, where he was quite pleased with his duties. In fact, he showed himself to be so creative and talented in his work that he rapidly rose through the ranks of The Royal Parks to become the youngest ever Head Gardener in Her Majesty's Service. The other gardeners held him in awe, for it did seem that the plants and flowers grew and flourished under his care almost as if touched by magic.

Little did they know, they were not so very far from the truth, for one cannot live so long in the company of fairies without ever retaining some indefinable hint of specialness. And it was this lingering bit of magic that made Peter so very good at his job.

He also gleaned much enjoyment from his position, for he spent very little of his time indoors, and even occasionally conducted his work in his bare feet, though this lack of foorwear was considered exceedingly eccentric by his fellow gardeners. English gentlemen simply do **not** walk about unshod, even in private! Sometimes, though, Peter just missed the feel of earth and grass against his toes, and so he would walk about the normal rounds of his daily work, and leave his shoes behind.

He and Wendy found a lovely house in Bloomsbury, rather near Wendy's parents and brothers, which was quite convenient for joining the family at Sunday dinners. Also, the boys all quickly came to adore Peter, particularly as he was ever prepared to join them in a sword fight or other raucous play. And he told the most deliciously dangerous stories!

Now, it must be admitted that Wendy and Peter were considered quite odd by most of their neighbors, but then -- people whispered among themselves -- the Darlings had always been rather strange. _Did you know that they had a **dog** for a nurse? Indeed! And they adopted so very many noisy and ill-mannered young boys of a sudden one night!_

Those who wondered about Peter's sudden appearance upon the social scene were informed that Wendy had met him while in America visiting a distant -- and fictional -- cousin. Saying that Peter was American seemed to answer almost all questions about his strange behavior and lack of manners, for everyone in London's good society knew for a fact that Americans were simply barbarians, with absolutely no breeding and no appreciation for the social graces. How a young lady as beautiful and well-bred as Wendy Darling could bear an American husband, they professed they could never quite understand.

And so the gossip flew, for not only was Wendy married to a barbaric American, she also was a novelist! And, indeed, Wendy did write several very fine books, one of which was so very popular that a statue was erected in Kensington Gardens to represent the boy of whom she had written. It was a tall tower representing greenery and animals, atop which a wild-looking young boy played a set of pipes. Peter found it quite amusing to pass the statue so frequently in his work, and always gave it a private smile.

On their evenings at home, Wendy would often play the piano and sing, sometimes even singing Hook's ridiculous "frisky plank" tune, because it could always make them laugh. Peter would sometimes accompany her upon his pipes, which he had brought with him from the Neverland. On other evenings they told stories, for each had many to tell, and each enjoyed listening to the other. Yet other evenings, they spent little time downstairs at all, and occupied themselves quite happily at length within their private quarters above.

Outside the home, Peter also took up fencing, and won every match at the local club, except those which he forgot to attend. He had a terrible tendency to neglect engagements, though Wendy tried to remind him about those which were especially important. He took up cricket and nearly any other sport others invited him to. He remained a physically robust and energetic man, well into his greying years.

So, indeed, the Pans were considered quite extravagantly eccentric by their neighbors and acquaintances ... and yet as time went on this same eccentricity seemed to slowly begin to charm the more established members of London's good society. The gentlemen were charmed by Wendy's beauty and gentleness, by her kindness, her good humor, her intelligence, and her occasional display of extraordinary spirit. If a gentleman wished to engage in political debate, he would find her a witty and well-informed opponent. She had many opinions and no fear of speaking her mind. She was most assuredly an unusual lady in London's better society, but many considered her a very welcome change from the usual simpering simpletons.

The ladies, for their part, were charmed by Peter's sly smiles and devilishly sparkling eyes, never mind the fact that he was quite extraordinarily handsome. He moved, too, with an almost feral grace which drove the young ladies almost to distraction. _He is American, you know,_ they whispered among themselves, and indeed this seemed to explain the courseness of his manners as well as the animal-like sexuality he exuded. And it must be admitted that his clear and passionate devotion to his beautiful young wife, too, made him only that much more thrillingly attractive, especially to the more romantic of the ladies. _How I would wish,_ they whispered to each other between their giggles, _that a man shall someday look at **me** that way!_

As time went on, it became well known throughout their set that a party that included the Pans was sure to succeed, for they were simply **never** boring. In society, this was an extremely rare trait, as well-bred Londoners are all too often the most boring creatures ever to tred upon the earth. And so many society folk found the eccentric Pans to be a breath of fresh air, an influx of humor and excitement into their own rather dull lives. One never knew what they might say or do, and the unexpectedness of the whole situation was a welcome addition to their stuffy lives.

And it was absolutely **required** that one invite them to any social event which involved dancing, for when Wendy and Peter Pan danced together, all eyes turned to them with awe and wonder. They danced as if no one else existed in the room, or perhaps even in the world. They had eyes only for each other, secret smiles passing back and forth between them, and they moved with a grace that made it seem almost as if they were floating on air. It was truly a sight to be seen.

And so, though they knew not how it had happened, Peter and Wendy Pan at length found themselves quite the most sought after couple in the best society in London. They were the most beautiful, most charming, most amusing, most exciting couple in London, and found themselves in high demand. Invitations to teas, to dinners, to parties, to dances, to concerts, to fox hunts, to picnics, and to so very many other events arrived nearly every day, sometimes several at once.

But the Pans did not accept every invitation that came to their door, for that would have left them very little time alone together. And, above all, they were utterly, delightedly, eternally devoted to each other ... and, when the time came, to their children as well.

For though Peter might fence and hunt and excel at archery and join a rowing crew and go on long walks through the city in search of hidden adventures, the real truth is that Peter had found his greatest adventure in the last place he would have expected it. Growing to know himself, living to love his wife, and learning to father his three children provided far more adventure than Peter could have imagined, and certainly enough to keep him happy forever and more.

No, it was not the same as fighting pirates or speaking with mermaids or dancing with Indians ... but it was a **man's** adventure, and every new day presented him with myriad opportunities to see the magic that was possible in the everyday world. He made sure each day to **grasp** those opportunities for all they were worth, rather than allowing them to pass by as so many of us do.

For it is true that we each are presented with adventures and mysteries more often than we realize, but we view the world with tired eyes, jaded and complacent. The world viewed through eyes willing to see magic, however, is a very different place, full of wonders and opportunities. Peter Pan retained always his ability to see the adventure in life. We may only wish that we might someday have some small amount of his ability, for the world would then be to us a far more magical place. You only need try. You only need truly believe.

Each night, as they lay in their bed together, Peter would kiss Wendy softly upon her lips and gaze down into her lovely face. And he would smile. He loved her most of anything he had ever known, and every day with her was as a gift to his heart.

He had traded Neverland to grow old with her, and in all his years with Wendy, in all their years of youthful marriage, in all their years of parenthood, and in all their years of old age, he never once regretted his decision, not even for a single moment.

Not even for one moment. Ever.

She was his Wendy. He had needed her without knowing so, before ever he had even seen her. She had been the first ever to kiss his lips, and she would be the only and last as well. His lips would never be touched by another, save for their dear children.

And when, at last, so very many years later, he lay upon his deathbed, Peter Pan would remember with gladness that he had had a glorious boyhood in Neverland ... and a glorious adulthood with Wendy ... and he would feel clear certainty in his heart that, given the chance, he would do it all the same. It had truly been an awfully big adventure, and he would do it all the same.

Every lovely bit the same.

**The End**

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**Author's Note:** Thanks again to everyone who gave encouragement. You guys are all great, and I'm very grateful. Reviews really do make a huge difference. I don't have any immediate plans to work on another fic, but I must admit that I'm kicking around some ideas. So we'll see. :)


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